Right in Front of Me (Book 1)
by ShabbyBeachNest
Summary: Dark secrets and an even darker past threaten to destroy the boy on whom the entire wizarding world has pinned their hopes. Can Severus Snape find it within him to heal and accept the broken child of his nemesis, and in the process, ultimately heal and accept himself? (AU-ish w/ OC, but follows canon. Severitus - mentor/adoption - mentions sexual abuse, but no details - NO SLASH!)
1. Prologue

Right in Front of Me

 **PROLOGUE**

 ****Author's Note: You may recognize much of the Prologue for "Right in Front of Me". Chapter 37 of** **The Order of The Phoenix** **, entitled** _ **The Lost Prophecy,**_ **belongs in its entirety to JK Rowling. I have only borrowed bits and pieces of it in order to launch the beginning of the story, as it became apparent to me that this place in time is where "Right in Front of Me" truly begins.**

 _ **The Lost Prophecy**_ **: Epilogue to "Right in Front of Me"**

Harry's feet hit solid ground; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the; picture. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.

The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think . . . there was no escape . . .

It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking on Harry's love of playing the hero . . .

It was unbearable, he would not think about it, he could not stand it . . . there was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where Sirius had been, where Sirius had vanished; he did not want to have to be alone with that great, silent space, he could not stand it -

Harry strode across the room and seized the doorknob. It would not turn. He was shut in.

The guilt filling the whole of Harry's chest like some monstrous, weighty parasite, now writhed and squirmed. _Out. Out. Have to get out!_ Harry could not stand this, he could not stand being himself any more . . . he had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody, anybody else . . .

The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. It was the last man he wanted to see at the moment, the man he loathed most in the world.

As Snape stepped from the green flames, his eyes roamed the office until falling upon Harry, who had turned his back and continued trying to tear open the door.

"And just where do you think youare going, Potter? Off to cause more mayhem and destruction?" The man asked silkily.

Harry whirled around, anger threatening to consume him like a raging, fiery inferno. "Don't you talk to me!" He shouted.

"I just came from the hospital wing, Potter. Aren't you worried about what's going on with your little Gryffindor admirers? Don't you want to know if they are going to suffer any lasting injuries from the damage you've caused tonight?" Snape sneered. "Or do you even care?"

Harry was shaking with guilt and anger – at Snape, but mostly at himself for everything he'd caused. He knew Snape was right. This devastating night was all his fault.

Suddenly the fireplace flared green once again, and Dumbledore unfolded his long frame, standing to take in the scene before him.

"Harry…" the headmaster croaked, his voice breaking. For the first time since he'd known the man, Harry thought he actually sounded his age. He walked slowly to his desk, leaning heavily on the wooden surface before allowing his head to fall into his hands. He stood like that for long moments, holding his face in his long-fingered hands and looking exhausted and worn, before slowly raising his eyes to Harry once again.

"I know how you're feeling, Harry," said Dumbledore very quietly.

"No, you don't," said Harry, and his voice was suddenly loud and strong; white-hot anger leapt inside him; Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings.

"You see, Headmaster?" Snape scoffed. "After everything that's happened this evening, _of course_ you couldn't _possibly_ understand what Golden Boy Harry Potter was feeling. He would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallowing in self-pity, stewing in his own – "

"That's enough, Severus," said Dumbledore, and the potions professor retreated to the corner in a swirl of black cloaks, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Harry.

Harry turned his back on the two men and desperately tore at the door handle once again. It refused to budge. He couldn't do this. His insides were seething and roiling like a pit of snakes. Anger, shame, and guilt were all trying to surpass the other within his gut. If he didn't get out of this room _now_ , he would explode.

"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," said Dumbledore's voice. "On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."

Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible empty chasm that Sirius's death had left within him. The desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words threatened dangerously close to the surface.

"My greatest strength, is it?" said Harry, his voice shaking as he paused in his struggles with the doorknob, staring down at but no longer seeing it. "You haven't got a clue . . . you don't know . . ."

"What don't I know?'" asked Dumbledore calmly.

It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human –"

"THEN - I - DON'T - WANT - TO - BE - HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindle-legged table beside the door and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall, precariously close to Snape, who let out a yell of anger.

"How dare you, you little—!" Snape seethed, but Harry cut him off.

"I DON'T CARE!" Harry screamed, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE!"

He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that too, taking a harsh satisfaction as he aimed at Snape once again. The man dove out of the way just in time, and the table exploded against the wall Snape had just been standing rigidly against, the legs bouncing off and rolling in different directions.

"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. Where Snape's eyes watched him with lethal fury, the headmaster's expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

"I - DON'T!" Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself.

"Oh, yes, you do," said Dumbledore, still more calmly. "You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" Harry roared. "YOU - STANDING THERE - YOU – "

But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; he wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He turned on his heel and seized the doorknob again, wrenching at it.

But the door would not open.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore.

"Let me out," he said. He was shaking from head to foot.

"No," said Dumbledore simply.

For a few seconds they stared at each other.

"Let me out," Harry said again.

"No," Dumbledore repeated.

"If you don't - if you keep me in here - if you don't let me – "

"By all means continue destroying my possessions," said Dumbledore serenely. "I daresay I have too many."

He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry.

"Let me out," Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore's.

"Not until the headmaster and I have had our say," Snape interjected in a growl.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT EITHER OF YOU HAVE TO SAY!" Harry roared. "I don't want to hear _anything_ you've got to say!"

"You will," said Dumbledore steadily. "Because you are not nearly as angry with _me_ as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it."

"What are you talking - ?"

"It is my fault that Sirius died," said Dumbledore clearly. "Or should I say, almost entirely my fault - I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone."

Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but was unaware of it. His gaze flicked back and forth between the two men. He was hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing.

"Sit. Down. Potter," Snape purred menacingly.

Harry's eyes met the dark gaze of his professor, and a bolt of purest loathing shot through him. " _Screw you, Snape."_

"Severus…" the headmaster said in a warning tone. After a moment, he addressed Harry again. "Please sit down." It was not an order, it was a request.

Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, and took the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.

"Harry, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten, lately . . ."

The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colorless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"I guessed, fifteen years ago," the headmaster continued, "when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort."

'You've told me this before, Professor," said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much anymore.

"Yes," said Dumbledore apologetically. "Yes, but you see - it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion."

"I know," said Harry wearily.

Snape, his arms still crossed over his chest, had silently stalked to where Harry was sitting, and was now standing directly behind him. Harry jumped when he spoke, "This ability of yours - to detect The Dark Lord's presence, even when he is disguised… to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused - has become more and more pronounced since The Dark Lord has been restored to his own body and his full powers."

Harry did not bother to nod, simply glared over his shoulder at his hated professor.

"More recently," said Dumbledore, bringing Harry's attention back around, "I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley."

'Yeah," Harry muttered, scowling darkly at the man standing behind him. The potions professor met his glare, giving Harry one of his own with narrowed eyes. "Snape told me," Harry said.

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him gently, but Harry didn't break his gaze with Snape. Harry's hatred for the man spiked as a corner of Snape's mouth came up insolently.

"Did it never enter that thick skull of yours, Potter, why it was _me_ who explained this to you, and not the headmaster? Why _he_ did not teach you Occlumency?"

"Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?" Dumbledore interjected.

Harry looked up at the headmaster. Dumbledore looked sad and tired.

"Yeah," Harry finally mumbled. "Yeah, I wondered."

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was - or had ever been - closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes . . ."

Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.

"Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been _yours._ He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake . . ."

He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered . . .

"Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realized he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminating a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat.

Snape couldn't keep quiet, "And when I discovered that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months, _despite_ everything I warned you about, you stubborn, spoiled, exasperating boy...!"

Dumbledore cut in before Harry could respond to the insults. "Voldemort had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.

"And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along - that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last - or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency."

"But I didn't," cried Harry, jumping to his feet, his eyes flicking wildly between the two men. Grief and the dead weight of guilt propelled him to continue. "I didn't practice, I didn't bother. I could've stopped myself having those dreams, _it that what you want to hear?!_ " His voice broke on a sob, and he gasped, "If I had, he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and - Sirius wouldn't - Sirius wouldn't—"

Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain… He sat quickly back in the chair and looked pleadingly into the headmaster's gaze. "I tried to check if he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!"

"Kreacher lied," said Dumbledore calmly. "You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher _intended_ for you to go to the Ministry of Magic."

"He - he sent me on purpose?"

"Oh yes. Kreacher, I'm afraid, has been serving more than one master for months."

"How?" said Harry blankly. "He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years."

"When you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. Members of the Order have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office."

"I found that the dog was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place, much to my dismay," Snape muttered.

Dumbledore continued, "When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once."

Harry sat back in his chair, numb from everything that had already happened and trying to find room to accept all this new information. He still refused to believe that Snape would ever do anything to actually _help_ him. There had to be more to the story for Snape to be involved…

Harry was so lost in his own tumultuous thoughts that he almost didn't hear when Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, "Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime, Professor Snape intended to search the Forest for you."

 _Yeah, I'll bet he did…_ Harry thought viciously. _Searched the Forest to make sure that Umbridge finished the job, more like._

"But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you," Dumbledore continued. "He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me where Sirius had gone.

"Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was - but Kreacher told him information that Voldemort could use to his advantage. Kreacher made him realize that the person Sirius cared about most in the world was you, and that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother."

"The Dark Lord knows of your hero complex, Potter.," Snape hissed. "You stubbornness, your refusal to learn Occlumency, is the reason The Dark Lord realized that the only one you would go to any lengths to rescue was _Sirius Black_ ," Snape spat the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Harry's lips were cold and numb. There seemed to be very little air in his lungs; his breathing was quick and shallow.

But the potions professor wasn't finished. "You might say, Potter," he murmured silkily, "that the blame for the dog's death lays directly at your feet."

 _"Severus!"_ Dumbledore said harshly, loudly.

But Harry was on his feet in an instant, knocking his chair to the ground with a clatter. "What about _you?"_ Harry yelled, "When I told you Voldemort had Sirius, you just sneered at me as usual—"

Harry had advanced to within an arm's length of Snape, and the man was not backing down. Instead he advanced and practically shouted in Harry's face, " _Think,_ idiot boy! Even you can figure out that I had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge! But it was _me_ that informed the Order about what you had said! It was _me_ who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest! _IT WAS ME_ who gave Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell her Sirius's whereabouts!"

Harry disregarded the man's words; he felt a savage pleasure in blaming Snape, it seemed to be easing his own sense of dreadful guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.

"You goaded Sirius about staying in the house – you made him out to be a coward!"

"Your godfather was an immature swine, just like your father!" Snape spat hatefully. "What he thought of himself for _hiding_ in that house was none of my concern."

"You BASTARD!" Harry cried, and he launched himself at the man. His fist connected with the professor's jaw, making the man stumble backward before Dumbledore had hurried around the desk and hauled him away. Harry shook the old wizard off, but didn't go after Snape again.

"Severus, leave us!" the headmaster said sternly.

Snape slowly straightened, a dark bruise already blossoming around his eye. Harry knew the bruise would be gone as soon as Snape could get to his potions, but Harry was gratified to see that he had caused the man pain, as fleeting as it may be. Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry, purest loathing emanating from his gaze. But in a swish of black fabric and a slam of the door, he was gone.

Much later, Harry sat alone in the fifth year dormitory of Gryffindor tower. Harry's knuckles and wrist sent sharp, shooting pains into his elbow. He'd refused to allow Madam Pomfrey to heal his hand, which she claimed was badly sprained and had bandaged nonetheless. What no one understood was that Harry _welcomed_ the pain. It allowed him to push away the overwhelming grief, the agony of losing Sirius. The physical pain in his hand only narrowed and focused his mind on one singular thought: how much he hated Severus Snape.


	2. Chapter 1

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 1**

 _ ****Author's Note: THERE IS NO HP/SS SLASH IN THIS STORY! Although filled with tormented anguish, "Right in Front of Me" is PURE Severitis! Please know that going in.**_

 _ **The idea for this story came to me while listening to a song by Amber Run, called "I Found." It's a beautiful song full of loneliness and the yearning to find peace with the ones you love. You may even recognize my story title if you listen closely…**_

 _ **I wasn't quite sure what to rate this story. It does include some adult themes, but nothing that you wouldn't see on "Law & Order: SVU". My neighbor and her 10-year-old daughter watch that show together, sooo… Ultimately I decided to leave it up to the reader. I DO get into some dark themes. However, I don't get into much graphic detail, because that is not what this story is about. The point was simply for me to rediscover my most beloved literary friends, to see how their behavior would change if their backstories had been peppered by trauma. I continually find myself attracted to damaged characters, as I find them much more interesting to explore. **_

_**My story is all about the "what if's" in the HP universe. What if these characters had been through even darker pasts than JK had already so beautifully set them on? If that murky, ambiguous, angst-ridden exploration makes you as curious and excited as it made me, then I hope you enjoy!**_

Harry hit the wall hard, throwing his arms out to prevent himself from falling to the ground.

"How _dare_ you backtalk me, you little freak!" Uncle Vernon roared, grabbing him by his collar and jerking him back up, nose-to-nose with his giant purple face. The reek of booze was strong on Uncle Vernon's breath, and Harry cringed away from flecks of rancid spittle spraying across his features. If he was in a normal frame of mind, Harry would have known not to push his luck. But this summer had been anything but normal. Rage bubbled dangerously near the surface these days, an anger so dead and dry that even the smallest spark could cause a raging inferno.

"Get off me!" He bellowed, tearing at his uncle's plump sausage fingers. "Let go, or I'll… I'll –"

"You'll _what_?" Uncle Vernon sneered. "That freaky headmaster of yours sent me a letter explain all about your dear, departed, criminal godfather. There's no one left who gives a damn _what_ I do to you, boy!"

Harry's eyes welled with angry tears. Uncle Vernon was right. Anyone remaining who cared a whit about him was either too young or too weak to change Harry's circumstances. If only he'd mastered Occlumency… If only he'd known… If only Sirius hadn't died.

Now he was personally responsible for the death of _three_ innocent people. _'The Boy Who Lived'?_ He thought savagely. _More like 'The Boy Who Gets His Loved Ones Killed'._

This last thought forced a single tear to leak from the corner of Harry's eye, and the sight seemed to please his uncle, who chuckled as he released the defeated boy. The mirth was still in his voice – as if he'd proudly won some great battle – when he said, "Your chores aren't done. Get back to work."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Down a dark alley across from Number 4, Privet Drive, a quiet _crack!_ sounded within the shadows. Snape sneered as he saw that not a single blade of grass or window pane looked out of place in the muggle neighborhood. Unexpectedly the very air shimmered next to him, as if he were staring at a mirage. Suddenly the mirage cleared, becoming a solid mass of indignant Scottish tartan. McGonagall glared at him as the disillusionment charm was withdrawn, hands fisted angrily on her hips.

"It's about time you showed up, Severus."

Snape let a low growl escape his throat and sneered, "YesMinerva. Because I obviously have nothing better to do with my limited summer break than watch over _The Golden Boy_." McGonagall arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips, not appreciating his unconcealed dislike of the boy. Snape sighed. "If you must know, you insufferable woman, I was brewing more potion for the wolf."

"Wolfsbane? For Remus?"

It was Snape's turn to arch a brow. "Do you know many warewolves?" he asked coldly.

"No. But I do happen to know a great pest of a dungeon bat!"

Snape knew that was what both the students and teachers alike called him. He even embraced the reputation, for it kept the fools at bay and allowed him to live his life in peace. Most of the time, anyway.

"So… What mischief has The Chosen One been getting up to today? Underage drinking? Graffiti-ing the local park? Harassing his muggle relatives?"

"Believe it or not, Severus, unlike most teenage wizards, Harry doesn't seem to like causing trouble." She glared at him, as if daring him to say otherwise.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the witch. "When shall I expect Nymphadora?"

"Midnight. You know what to do if you need us." And with that, and another small _crack!_ as she disapparated, McGonagall was gone.

It was not long after he'd cast his own disillusionment spell that the little dunderhead appeared, carrying a sponge and bucket full of cleaning supplies. Snape had not set eyes on Potter since the altercation in Dumbledore's office after the mutt had died. His blood boiled as he thought of the punch he had received from the boy. _Anyone_ getting the upper hand on him raised his hackles, but the fact that it was _Potter_ made it even worse. That had been the reasoning behind refusing this particular assignment all summer; in fact, he would not be here now if Shacklebolt hadn't had some pressing matter at the ministry and Dumbledore hadn't forced his hand.

He watched Potter drag himself to the hose and start spraying down the large sedan in the driveway. "Pouting, I see," Snape muttered disgustedly. Merlin forbid the child actually be expected to _work_ during the summer.

 _The boy belongs in the muggle world,_ he thought sourly. There was nothing so extraordinary about Potter, with the exception of his scar, which the child arrogantly flouted every chance he got. Potter wasn't possessed of any remarkable magical talent, he wasn't particularly intelligent, and as far as Snape could tell, he was extremely lazy. _I may as well have a slug for a student, with the amount of effort he gives in my classes._

An hour later, however, Snape grudgingly had to admit that Potter had done a decent job with the muggle contraption, considering it had all been done via manual labor instead of magic. Potter had thoroughly scrubbed, polished, and cleaned every inch of the ugly apparatus until it positively gleamed in the bright afternoon sun.

He watched as Potter walked heavily to the front door, pausing for a long moment with his hand on the doorknob. The boy looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else at that moment than exactly where he was.

Finally opening the door, Potter's voice lacked enthusiasm as he called, "Uncle Vernon. Your car is done."

The walrus of a man emerged a moment later, along with his whale of a son. The whale seemed positively gleeful. _I've never seen a whale skip before,_ Snape thought as he made his way over to the car, stopping just beside it with an air of expectancy.

The elder Dursley was a bit more leisurely in his approach. His sky blue button down was currently unbuttoned and untucked, his white undershirt wet and stained around the neck with old sweat. He ambled over to the car, and Snape watched him take a long pull from an amber-colored bottle as he inspected Potter's work.

Then, with a sudden noise like an elephant, the man snorted deep in his throat, hacked the offending material into his mouth, and spat the great green glob directly onto the vehicle. Snape watched in revulsion as the blob slid down the side of the door like a garden slug, leaving great green smears of slime in its tracks.

"You missed a spot," Dursley chortled, taking another swig from his bottle. "Do it again." Father and son walked back into the house together, laughing at the young wizard's expense. Snape couldn't help but notice that, even with as much temper as he'd seen displayed at school, Potter hadn't reacted at all, almost as if he'd been expecting it…

It was hours later, as the sun was casting golden hues before its final descent that the boy seemed to finally finish the long list of chores he'd been set. So far he'd cleaned the car (again), swept and hosed down the walkway, taken apart and scoured the grill, mowed the lawn, weed whacked around the fences and mailbox, pruned the bushes, washed the windows, cleared out the gutters, edged the garden with an edging shovel, and replanted the flowers.

The whale had come back out while Potter had been mulching the new flower beds, dragging and kicking his feet through the small mounds. Potter didn't even try to stop him. By the time his fat cousin was done with his destruction, he was drenched in sweat and the mulch was everywhere _but_ the flower beds. It was then that Petunia had brought out lemonade and a large bowl of ice cream to her son, scolding him gently for, "Overexerting himself." She glared down at the young wizard at her feet as she walked back into the house, as if daring him to ask if she'd brought anything out for him. He was happy to see the whale leave the house and make his down the street a short time later – presumably to get into trouble with his friends somewhere that his parent's couldn't see.

As Snape cast his fifth Aguamenti charm to refill his bottle a short time later, he noted that the family had never even brought Potter any water at the very least, seeing as the boy had been working out in the sun and it was an extremely hot day. Snape caught sight of the hose, laying disregarded in the grass behind Potter, and it suddenly shot to life with a stream of water, drenching the boy from behind.

"What the-!" But as Potter jumped onto the dancing hose to stop it's movements, he must have realized just how hot he was, for he stood in the flower beds and let the water run over his head for a moment before taking a few gulps out of the end. Turning off the spicket and replacing the hose to its rightful spot, a very wet Potter trudged wearily into the house.

But moments later, a feminine scream emanated from the open front door. "You filthy cretin! You're getting _mud_ all over my floors!"

The scream was followed by an angry bellow a moment later. "Why you little bastard!"

It was the sound of a solid fist connecting with soft flesh and Potter yelping in pain that caught Snape's attention. More out of curiosity than anything else, he found himself walking across the road toward the open door.


	3. Chapter 2

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 2**

Although Snape was still across the street, he could clearly hear – and see – everything going on inside the front hall. The door was wide open, framing Dursley as he loomed threateningly over Potter. The boy was crumpled at his feet, his lip bleeding and a dark bruise already blossoming across his face. It looked as if he'd been backhanded.

"My wife works herself to the bone keeping this house clean! How dare you dirty it with your filth, you inconsiderate little creep! GET OUT! _NOW!"_

Snape had only made it halfway to the house when the boy scrabbled out from under the beefy man, disappearing into the door leading to the kitchen. The professor quickened his pace and entered the house unseen through the open door, still under his disillusionment charm.

"He gets it from his mother!" Petunia was screeching while wiping the mud from the floor. "She was an inconsiderate, selfish little freak, just like him!"

Snape felt a dangerous uptick to his anger. Lily had been his one golden ray of sunlight in a lifetime of oppressing darkness. It was beyond difficult to stand by and listen to this filthy muggle disgrace her memory…

He needed to keep moving before he did something he would regret. Granted, the torture he'd inflict on these people would entertain him immensely; he loved seeing bullies get exactly what they deserved. But he knew he would regret having to sit through a nagging lecture he'd undoubtedly receive from the headmaster.

He stepped mutely over the woman still on her hands and knees, heading down the hall. "Ouch!" She cried suddenly, sitting up and rubbing her bony bottom. "Something stung me!" Snape merely smiled underneath the disillusionment charm.

Moving slowly and quietly down the hallway, he couldn't help but notice the pictures plastered along the walls of their fat lump of a son. There were none of Potter, even within the family shots…

Snape entered the kitchen, expecting to see Potter tending to his face. He'd only been hit the once. Severus had endured much worse as a child, and at a much younger age than sixteen. A bruised face was nothing in the grand scheme of things for _The Chosen One._ Even Neville Longbottom could handle _one_ measly backhand.

But the kitchen was empty. The boy wasn't there. Snape cursed under his breath. Where was the little fool?

Sudden movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head sharply. The little idiot was leaving through the back gate. Where exactly did he think he was going?! Potter knew the wards didn't extend much further than the boundary of the house!

Snape hurried through the open sliding glass door out to the back garden. But when he reached the gate and looked in either direction, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry could taste the blood oozing from his swollen lip, and he didn't dare touch his tender face. He knew he'd have a bruise covering the entire lower half of his cheek by nightfall. Reaching the back gate, he sprinted away from the house. He wasn't supposed to leave the protection of the wards, but he no longer cared.

 _Screw Uncle Vernon. Screw everybody._

It's not like he hadn't been hit before; he'd taken much worse beatings in the past. But not since someone out there had shown that they cared, that they actually wanted him,that they loved Harry and wanted be a true and proper _family_ …

The thought of Sirius hit him hard. Hot, streaming tears suddenly blinded him, pouring down his face, stinging his cut lip. The self-loathing burned angrily inside him, like the earth rumbling and boiling before an eruption.

It was his fault. Everyone was dead because of him.

The thought kept him running, even when the burning in his chest threatened to make him stop. His lungs heaved painfully and his heart continued to throb with agony, the two melting into one and the same. _My…fault,_ he heaved,his heart and his shoes beating the cadence together. It became a never ending rhythm of guilt as his feet pounded against the pavement. _My…fault…My…fault…MY…FAULT!_

His body was desperate to get air, but his mind was just as desperate to outrun the pain.

His body finally won out, forcing him to stop at the mouth of a tunnel leading underneath a busy highway. The twilight was quickly throwing the streets into darkness, and the harsh tunnel lights flickered on overhead as he crumpled to the ground. Harry bent double with his hands on his knees and his back against the cold concrete wall, heaving and gasping from the physical and emotional pain racking his body. He couldn't breathe, the sobs were choking his airway. Sliding down the wall, he finally collapsed on the ground. He dragged his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to bury his face in order to quiet the echo of his weeping along the concrete walls of the tunnel.

He deserved to be beaten like this – and more. It was _his_ fault Sirius was dead. Cedric, his parents… They were all dead because of him. He may have survived the killing curse, but it had obviously affected him in other ways _._ People couldn't get close to him without ending up in the ground. It was only a matter of time before he lost everyone he cared about, and was truly and utterly alone…

He hammered his fist against the asphalt. God _damn_ Bellatrix Lestrange for taking Sirius! He would kill her one day, he would get his revenge! And God damn Voldemort for creating such a contemptible, dedicated disciple! _And God damn Severus Snape for refusing to teach him Occlumency!_

" _Potter?"_ He heard his name echo through the tunnel, snickered in a tone of disbelief.

Harry raised his head slowly. It was almost a relief to look up and see Dudley and his gang walking toward him. They were passing a bottle of hard liquor amongst each other, but Harry could smell the alcohol and pot coming off them in waves. The self-hatred from moments ago swiftly redirected itself. He jumped to his feet, ready and willing to release some of his pent up rage.

"What the hell do you want, Dudley?"

"Oh, did you hear that?" Dudley announced to the boys around him, taking a deep pull of the amber liquid in the bottle. "Potter wants to play!" The members of Dudley's gang all began to laugh and catcall as they surrounded Harry. Dudley grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, yanking him close as he murmured, "You don't have your little stick to protect you now, do you, freak?"

And he pushed Harry across to Piers, who punched Harry in the kidney and knocked the wind out him. He fell to the ground, gasping. The group laughed and high-fived one another, but the simmering rage propelled Harry back to his feet, even while he clutched his side.

"He hasn't had enough, Dudley!" Malcom hooted, sipping at the bottle.

"Yeah Big D! He wants more!" Dennis called.

Dudley was watching Harry, a wicked smile spreading across his fat face. "I hear you at night, Potter. Crying into your pillow. _'No, please! Not Sirus! Don't leave me, Sirius!'"_ he mocked. "I bet you loved spending time with that criminal godfather of yours, didn't you, Potter? I bet he taught you all _kinds_ of things he learned in prison." The sickening implication infuriated Harry.

"Fuck you, Dudley!" Harry spat, not sure if he was trying to instigate a physical fight or not, but well beyond caring.

The smile immediately melted off Dudley's face. "Fuck _me?_ " His gaze hardened as he glanced at the other boys around him. "If you say so, Potter. Get him!"

Harry turned to run, making it just outside the tunnel before they were on him. He turned and landed a punch across Piers' jaw, knocking him back. His hand – the same one he'd punched Snape with – shot with pain, but Harry didn't stop swinging. Gordon grabbed his forearm and hurled him face first into one of the chain link fences that ran on either side of the tunnel's entrance. The impact knocked the wind out of Harry, but he spun and kicked out at Piers, who was coming at him again.

The street lights cast an eerie orange light to the faces around him, and he felt the first trickle of cold fear as Malcom smashed the bottle and thrust the jagged end of it threateningly at Harry. The other three jumped on him at once and forced him to spin, his face against the fence once more.

He desperately tried to jerk himself free when Dudley approached him from behind. The boy leaned into him as he murmured in Harry's ear. "Fuck me, eh, Potter? You're about to get the night of your life, you dirty little freak…" He ground his hips against Harry's backside, and pure terror took hold when he heard Dudley undo his zipper as he announced, "Hold him down!" Harry bucked, desperate to get away, but Dudley used his meaty hand to push Harry's face harder against the chain link, effectively trapping him.

It was in that horrifying moment that through the chain link, his wide, terrified eyes locked with those of a stunned Severus Snape.


	4. Chapter 3

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 3**

Snape had walked the entire neighborhood searching for the damned stubborn child, but he was still nowhere to be found. As careless as he knew the boy could be, Snape refused to believe that he was stupid enough to have gone far from the wards.

"Point me… Harry Potter," he hissed as he whipped out his wand and laid it flat against the palm of his hand. "Insufferable, willful, pig-headed boy!" He murmured angrily. Snape followed his wand's direction, stopping every block or so to repeat the spell. As the wand tip began to glow and he knew that he was getting closer, he was in a cold rage to see that Potter had gone almost two miles from the safety of his home.

"He's going to wish he'd never been born after the thrashing _I'm_ going to—"

But the words jammed themselves in his throat. He stood in stunned silence, as the sight before him made his blood freeze in his veins.

There was Potter, being held down by five other boys – one of them his cousin, who was forcing Potter's bruised and bloody face up against the fence while fiddling with Potter's pants, trying to push them down over his hips while trying to prevent his cousin from bucking him off.

 _This couldn't… How was this…? What in Merlin's name was happening here?_ Potter's eyes met his in that instant, and he could plainly see the panicked terror in their depths.

The world went red, and it was suddenly as if the ice in his veins had turned to fire. Snape roared as he sprinted down the path, the attackers freezing and whipping around at the sudden sound.

They didn't stand a chance.

Snape shot hexes and spells from his wand as if he were shooting a muggle gun, and he was in such a rage that he almost didn't register the screams of agony coming from the assailants. When he did, he took a sick pleasure in watching the blood spray as the spells hit their marks.

Snape spun around as the fighting lulled, his wand tip pointing threateningly. But he realized there was no one left standing. Amidst the moans coming from the downed attackers, he saw a terrified Potter crouched against the fence and staring at him with wide, petrified eyes.

Snape stalked towards the boy, breathing hard and fast, trying to ease the red in his vision. The sight of Potter pushed up against the fence, his cousin behind him and about to do unspeakable things, was seared into Snape's brain. He saw it every time he blinked or closed his eyes.

 _No_ child would go through something that vile while he was able to prevent it. _Never again…_

Snarling and still caught within the red fury, Snape ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. He tried to erase the sordid scene with pressure from his hands, and after a moment his eyes opened once more to the boy at his feet. Potter flinched as Snape suddenly raised his wand and sent his Patronus to Nymphadora, who was not only a member of The Order, but was also an Auror. Let her bring her fellow Aurors and deal with the memory spells. Let _them_ deal with these monsters.

Snape held his hand out to the frightened boy, who simply continued to stare up at him.

"Potter!" he barked. "Take my hand! We must leave, now!"

The boy's eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. But still he didn't move.

"Dammit, Potter!" Snape growled, bending over and snatching him to his feet by grabbing him firmly by the wrist. He spun on the spot, and with a slight _crack!_ they were standing on the doorstep to Spinner's End.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry bent double and retched, nothing coming from up his empty stomach. He fell onto his knees as he retched again, and was surprised to feel a hand land gently on the back of his head.

Harry recoiled and scrambled to his feet, wiping his mouth gingerly with the back of his hand, trying not to further inflame his battered lip. He and Snape stared at one another for a long moment.

Harry had absolutely no idea what to say. Rage and mortification roiled within him, threatening to make him retch again. But he was spared having to speak first when Snape said, "It's common to feel nauseous after your first apparition." He cleared his throat, obviously at as much of a loss as Harry. "When was the last time you ate anything, Potter?"

Harry looked away, embarrassed that he actually had to think about the answer. "Tuesday, Sir."

" _Tuesday?_ Are you sure about that? It's Thursday, Potter."

Anger welled up inside, and after the day he'd had, Harry couldn't hold it back. "Yes, I'm _sure._ Withholding meals is one of the Dursley's favorite form of punishment." He met Snape's cold gaze again. "Sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as he turned and walked up the path to the dingy house. He placed his hand palm down on the door, murmuring a string of Latin as the wood beneath his palm began to glow. Then the door popped open quietly, and Snape pushed it wide and strode into the house.

Harry was hesitant to follow. The last time he had seen this man, he'd wanted to kill him and had blackened his eye as he tried to do just that. He _loathed_ his potions professor, detested everything about him, from his unfair treatment to his nasty remarks about his father.

But that same man had just saved him from… Bile suddenly rose in the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard. Pushing the disturbing images away, he quickly considered what to do.

Did Snape save him because he actually wanted to? Or was there some other nefarious purpose behind his unexpected behavior? He wasn't in the house yet, he could make a run for it. But where would he go? Back to the Dursley's? _No, that was definitely not an option._ The thought of being anywhere near his cousin at the moment made him sick. Not to mention there were probably Aurors converging on the Dursley residence this very second, which they wouldn't appreciate. He'd probably be beaten to within an inch of his life if he went back.

What would Ron and Hermione do if they were here?

"Potter, get in here," Snape called as a light flickered on inside.

 _Run!_ Ron screamed at him inside his head. _Are you mental, mate? You're about to go into Snape's_ _house! RUN!_

 _No, Harry!_ Hermione said firmly, arguing with Ron as always, even inside his head. _Dumbledore trusts Snape. You should, too._

"Potter! I said _in_. Now."

Harry's breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps, and a cold sweat broke out on his face. His extremities had started to go numb at the thought of following Snape, but Harry didn't see any other choice. He didn't even know what part of the country he was in, and his wand was locked in the cupboard back at the Dursley's.

He stepped slowly over the threshold.

He began to hyperventilate right there in the entrance way. _What the hell am I doing?! Snape would love nothing more than to make me disappear from the face of the planet, and I have absolutely nothing to defend myself with!_ Blackness was staring to converge on the edges of his vision, white spots almost blinding him as all he heard was the frantic pounding of his heart.

The world tiled precariously and Harry stumbled, but Snape was suddenly there, grasping him hard by the shoulders in order to keep him upright. "Easy…" He maneuvered Harry over to an old sofa, pushing on the tops of his shoulders to make him sit. He then thrust a small potion vial into Harry's limp hand. "Drink this."

Harry struggled to rise, but Snape held fast to his shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you, Potter. Had I wanted to I would not have bothered rescuing you." He then backed off, as if emphasizing his words that he was not going to hurt him.

It took a moment for that to penetrate Harry's clouded brain, but when it did Harry couldn't help but admit that it made sense. He slowly uncorked the vial and tipped it back against his lips.

Within moments, the panic clutching at ribs and making it difficult to breathe eased. His heartbeat slowed, and the feeling in his hands and feet started to return.

"Calming Draught?"

Snape looked at him a moment, then gave a jerky nod.

He almost choked on the next bit, but as the Calming Draught took effect, Harry realized it needed to be said. "Thank… Thank you. For… everything."

Snape was watching him again, but something moved behind his eyes, and an odd look passed over his face. He nodded again, slower this time. Then he turned to leave the room.

Harry jumped up."Where are you going?"

Snape turned back around – slowly. "Do not tempt me, Potter. If you do not sit – now – I will have to force you. And since I have a wand and you do not, believe me when I say that you will not like what happens."

Harry stared at him with wide eyes, but fell back into the old sofa.

"Good," Snape said. "Now _stay there_ until I get back." Snape strode out of the room, and Harry took a moment to inspect his surroundings.

He couldn't help but go slack jawed at what he saw. It was actually quite… normal. Shabby and a little dilapidated, yes. But you would never have known that one of the most well-renowned wizard potion masters of all of Britain lived here. In fact, it could easily have been a _muggle_ house. There was no sign of magic anywhere.

The room he was in would normally be defined as a muggle sitting room. However, the room had been transformed in what could only be described as a library. Floor to ceiling shelves on all four walls were packed with books, and shelves had even been built above and below the windows. The couch he was currently occupying was one of a matching pair, a small coffee table in between the two, all opposite a small, muggle-sized fireplace. Harry found this odd since most wizarding households had larger fireplaces, which made traveling by floo much easier. Next to the fireplace was an old, green wingback armchair, and next to that, a muggle floor lamp.

Harry stood, Snape's instructions forgotten. As he moved around the room, Harry's gaze swept the mantel above the fireplace, looking for photos or clues to figure out why _Snape_ , of all people, would bring him to a house that was so very... muggle. His eyes fell upon a small dish of green, glittering powder – _floo powder._ It was the only sign of magical inhabitants that he could see.

 _What the hell?_ Thought Harry in confusion. _What exactly is this place?_

"What were you expecting?" Snape sneered as he walked back into the room. "Coffins? Chains hanging from the walls?"

"Well… Yeah. Kind of." At the dark look Snape threw his way, he hastily added, "No offense, Sir. But you _do_ live in the dungeons at school…" Harry thought he saw the corner of Snape's mouth twitch, but a wave of dizziness hit him again at that moment, and he weaved where he stood.

"Sit down before you fall down, Potter."

"I'm fine, Sir."

"You are many things, boy. Rash, reckless, uninterested in the rules…" Harry sputtered in anger, but Snape raised his hand to cut him off and continued. "But ' _fine'_ is not one of them." He gave Harry one of those piercing stares that made Harry squirm uncomfortably for long moments. "A nerve potion," he said suddenly, holding out another small vial to Harry. "For your hand."

At Harry's blank stare Snape explained, as if speaking to an idiot, "Judging by the swelling and abrasions across your knuckles, I'm guessing that you graced your cousin or a member of his gang with that right hook that I'm so intimately acquainted with."

Harry blushed deeply at the reminder of their previous encounter, but realized that the pain from his hand and wrist was indeed radiating down to his elbow like it had in the past.

"Thank you, sir," he muttered quietly before quickly downing the potion. Immediately the pain in his hand started to lessen. There was an awkward silence as the two stared at one another.

 _What now?_

"I assume that if you haven't eaten since Tuesday, Potter, you must be hungry. Can you eat?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Stay here. I'll be right back."


	5. Chapter 4

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 4**

Snape took his time in the kitchen, doing things the muggle way instead of using magic. The grilled cheese sizzled in the pan, and the leftover tomato soup from last night's meal was just starting to bubble in the small pot next to it. These things could have been finished in a quarter of the time using magic, but Snape admitted to himself that he was stalling. What exactly was he expected to say to the child sitting in his living room?

He placed the two sandwiches on the plate, then poured the soup into an old, chipped bowl. Wondering what the boy would prefer to drink, he settled on a glass of milk. _Are you going to place his napkin in his lap for him, too?_ He berated, irritated with himself.

Why the hell did he suddenly seem to give a damn about Potter's wellbeing? The boy had been a menace the entire five years he'd known him. Reckless, irresponsible, spoiled, pampered Potter! But then he remembered the sight of him on the ground beneath his uncle, and after that, his cousin…

Snape's hands shook as he placed the food on an old wooden breakfast tray, making the china rattle. Placing his hands firmly on the counter, he closed his eyes, hanging his head and allowing the curtain of his hair to swing forward and cover his face. He took repeated deep breaths in order to calm himself. Harry's terrified eyes shone in his memory, locked on him through the chain link. Then they started to morph and change. Suddenly he was staring at another young boy, eyes black with hatred and pain burning ominously in their depths. His hands shook again as his heart began to pound.

This wasn't working.

Reaching over to the grates on the stove that were still hot from the fire beneath them, he placed his palm against the metal until he heard his skin start to sizzle. The physical pain was there, but he was able to get his emotions in check, and he felt numb and empty.

 _Good._

Straightening his shoulders, Snape inspected his burned hand. An angry-looking raw, red blister was beginning to form. He knew it would scar, but didn't care. _Easily explained for a potions-master,_ he thought. _I'll use the ointment later._ With that, he hovered the tray into the living room, where it settled gently in the air in front of Potter. His uncertain eyes flicked to Snape as if asking permission.

"Eat," Snape ordered, harsher than he intended, and the boy gingerly picked up a grilled cheese and took a bite. Snape started a fire in the grate, then sat on the second couch opposite Potter, watching him devour the simple meal. _He obviously was telling the truth about not having eaten,_ Snape noted. His eyes fell to the large bruise covering the boy's cheek, but he stayed quiet while Potter ate, gathering his thoughts and wondering about the best way to approach this dreaded conversation.

When Potter finished, Snape banished the dishes with a wave of his wand. "Potter… We need to talk about the events of today."

The boy's eyes flared with anxiety, before he tried to shutter it behind false bravado.

"Why?" Potter was obviously trying to sound casual about it, but Snape could hear the unease hidden just beneath the surface. "Nothing really happened."

Snape placed his elbows on his knees, leaning toward the boy. "Nothing really happened?" _The direct approach, then._ "Potter, I've been watching you all day. I saw the episode with the car. And after, with your uncle." His hands fisted on his knees. "And there's no denying what your cousin was intending to do…"

Potter refused to meet his gaze. "Yeah, well… I can take a punch every now and then." Snape noted that the boy chose to completely ignore the second half of what he'd said, focusing instead on indignant anger. "I would have thought that you'd like seeing what my uncle does to me. God knows you've wanted to hit me more than once since I've known you," he challenged, angry eyes coming back to rest on him.

"I do not agree with laying hands on a child – no matter how infuriating that child may be," he growled, but as he paused, his voice softened… "However, that is not what I want to discuss just now."

Potter was on his feet in an instant, grabbing for a wand that was not there. "What are you, some kind of pervert?!" The boy spat desperately at him. "Why the hell do you want to talk about it? Dudley has never done anything like that before. So we don't have to talk about it, alright? _I can take care of myself!_ " But the boy was visibly shaking by the end of his tirade.

"We need to discuss this, Potter. I need to know—"

" _What?_ What exactly do you need to know? Has he ever _touched_ me before? Has ever _forced_ himself on me? Did he… Did he _rape_ me? No, that's never happened before, ok? I don't… I don't know what-" But he cut himself off as Snape shot off the couch and stalked towards him. The boy started backing fearfully away.

Snape swept a hand through his hair, trying to tamp down his sudden violent anger. _Do not take your feelings out on an innocent child,_ a small voice inside him whispered.

"He's never touched me before!" Potter repeated. The desperation in the boy's voice snapped his resolve, and he lunged for Potter. Catching the boy by the shoulders, he gave him a hard shake.

"Where was your wand, you idiot boy? You still do not have it! Are you a wizard or aren't you? _Why didn't you protect yourself?!"_

Snape knew in a small corner of his mind that the questions were ridiculous; Potter was not allowed to do magic outside of school. And what boy could be expected to defend himself against a grown man and a pack of wild animals? But his rage was beyond common sense at that moment, and he gave Potter one more teeth-rattling shake before the boy answered.

"I didn't have my wand! My uncle took it from me at the start of summer! Everything is locked in the cupboard under the stairs. I tried to get it out a few weeks ago, but he found me and I… I think he dislocated my shoulder. I had to pop it back in myself…" His gaze drifted away for a moment before his head snapped back up at Snape. "Why the hell do _you_ care, anyway? You hate me! You've always hated me!"

Snape was suddenly slammed back into reality – into the here and now – and it was Lily's eyes he was staring back at, not Potter's. _Lily's eyes…_

Disgusted with himself, Snape suddenly released the boy, who stumbled backwards, and ran another hand through his hair as he walked away. _What the hell was wrong with him? Potter sat here, bruised and beaten after having just been almost…_ He didn't need another bloody altercation with his professor on top of it all!

Snape tried to mollify the boy by placing himself on the opposite side of the couch, giving Potter plenty of breathing room. "Sit down, Potter."

The boy eyed him warily, not moving from his place where he'd backed himself against the wall. Still standing behind the couch, Snape placed his arms on the back and allowed his head to droop once again, breathing deep in order to further calm himself. He raised his head slowly, meeting Potter's wary gaze a second time. "I will not touch you again. Sit down."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry watched his professor watching him. Snape didn't move at all, instead allowing Harry to come closer when he felt comfortable. Harry walked slowly around the couch and sat, facing his professor as the man leaned against the back of the opposite sofa. The crackling of the fire was the only sound for long minutes. After a while Snape spoke.

"How long has your uncle been hitting you?" he asked quietly.

"As long as I can remember, sir," Harry sighed. He saw no point in lying. The man seemed to know more than Harry was comfortable with, anyway. He may as well get this conversation over with.

"And you never thought to tell anyone?" Snape continued, his voice strangely empty.

"What would be the point?" Harry shrugged. "It's not like they would have done anything about it."

His words hung heavily in the air before Snape sighed, "Your trust in adults is sorely lacking, Potter, and I can't say that I blame you. Both your head of house and the headmaster have been negligent in their duties. This should never have happened."

Harry was taken aback by Snape's words. Was he _apologizing_ for Harry's situation? He didn't know what to stay to that, so he chose to stay silent.

Snape watched Harry for a long moment before he stated, "I need the truth, Potter. Has your cousin ever done this before?"

Harry nervously twisted his fingers in his lap, watching them with embarrassment. Why didn't Snape believe him when he said no?

"Look at me, Harry."

Harry's eyes snapped up in confusion. "That's the first time you've ever—"

" _Legilimens."_

Harry gasped as he felt Snape slip into his mind. Images suddenly rushed through his memory of their own accord. Harry locked in the cupboard during Dudley's fifth birthday party, tears leaking down his face as children played and ate cake in the living room, but terrified of making any sound; Harry enviously watching Dudley open an ungodly amount of gifts on Christmas morning; Harry being bullied by his bigger cousin until he was forced to fight back, and the depraved beating he received from his uncle afterward; Harry running for his life from Dudley and his gang; Harry being caught and slammed against the fence as Dudley ground himself against him—

" _GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"_ Harry screamed, panting and covered with sweat from fighting so hard against Snape's mental grasp. "God dammit! He's never touched me before, alright?!" Harry was livid, and couldn't help the feeling of betrayal that washed through him. Snape had the grace to look slightly abashed.

"I needed to know the truth, Potter."

"I already told you the truth!" Harry yelled. "Why can't you just accept that I wouldn't lie about something like that?" Something ominous flickered behind the man's dark eyes, but before Harry could even guess as what it was, it was gone.

"I…" Snape cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair yet again. "I apologize… that I violated you in that way, Potter. It was imperative that I know the truth."

Harry didn't think it was possible, but he was shocked into silence yet again that night. But before Harry had much time to consider this, Snape spun and strode out of the room, leaving Harry alone and confused.


	6. Chapter 5

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 5**

When Snape didn't immediately return, Harry stood uncertainly. What was he supposed to do now? Snape had just made it abundantly clear that his presence was not welcome in this house. He turned to leave and had his hand on the front door when Snape's voice rose silkily out of the shadows.

"Remove your hand from that doorknob, Potter, or I shall remove it for you."

Harry pulled back his hand as if it had been burned. "Sir… I…" He stuttered, "Well I… Wasn't sure if you wanted me to leave."

"You will be staying here this evening," Snape announced, making his way down a staircase that Harry hadn't even noticed was there. In his arms Harry saw a towel, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, and what looked like pajamas. Handing the strange bundle to Harry, Snape immediately turned and headed back up the stairs.

"Follow me, Potter."

Harry didn't move, as he wasn't sure how he felt about sleeping in the same house with Snape. His professor did not bother to turn around as he murmured, "Don't make me repeat myself."

 _Nothing bad has happened so far…_

He placed one foot on the bottom stair, then the other. Snape began walking once again, and Harry couldn't help but be curious about what the rest of the house was like. Reaching the second floor, Snape pointed to a closed door at the end of the upstairs hallway. "That is my room. You are not to go in without my express permission, or the consequences will be dire. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape pointed to the other doors, one next to the other, both rooms with their lights on and both doors slightly ajar. They passed a small room with green walls and dark wooden furniture. Harry only caught a glimpse before they moved on to the next, which turned out to be a bathroom.

Pushing open the door, Snape murmured, "I imagine you'd like a shower after all the hard manual labor you've put in today." Harry was extremely grateful that Snape didn't mention the true reason he'd want a shower after the events of the day. It was a very odd feeling to be grateful to a man who, just an hour previously, he would have readily admitted to hating.

"Thank you, sir." Harry said again, and he meant it.

"I have something for you when you are finished. Take your time, Potter." He walked off, shocking Harry yet again with his kindness.

The bathroom was dated and out of style, but clean. Harry turned on the shower, but didn't bother to turn the temperature down when he stepped into the scalding water. He tried in vain not to think about what had almost happened with his cousin earlier. He washed himself four times before he felt even remotely clean, scrubbing his body until his skin was red and raw.

The side of his face was also extremely tender, his lip still swollen and sore. He washed his face repeatedly, albeit gently.

After getting out and drying himself, Harry couldn't help but inspect the pajamas that Snape had given him. They were obviously Snape's – black, of course, and shrunken down to size to fit Harry's smaller frame. They were made of an extremely soft material, and Harry had to admit feeling quite luxurious putting them on. _Much different from the thin, ripped, old hand-me-downs that were three sizes too big._

Harry brushed his teeth and turned off the light, heading next door to the green room with dark wooden furniture. There was a full sized bed with a thick green patterned comforter, along with a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a small writing desk. Although the room didn't look as if it had been used much in the last 20 years, it was tidy and the bedding was clean.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, still vaguely uncomfortable. His world had been twisted completely upsidedown since this morning, and although he didn't miss the Dursleys _at all_ , he was completely out of his element. His eyes happened to fall on a battered old notebook on the desk, and Harry almost fell off the edge of the bed when he read, "Severus Snape –Grade 4" across the top.

Snape chose that moment to knock on the slightly open door, which Harry suddenly found even more bizarre because…

"Sir, was this _your_ room?"

"Your powers of observation continue to amaze, Potter," Snape drawled.

"But… Does that mean… Is this _your_ house, sir?"

"Well done, Potter," the professor replied sarcastically, but the tone didn't bother Harry.

"But then… Why do you have all that muggle stuff?"

"I'm sure it has yet to occur to you, but as far-fetched as you so obviously believe this to be, I am indeed… a half-blood," Snape replied, laying out a small jar and two tiny glass vials on the desk next to the bed. Turning, he caught Harry's startled gaze. "Have I suddenly grown a second head, Potter?"

"Um, no sir. It's just that…" Snape arched a brow, daring him to continue. "Uh, nevermind. What are those?" Harry asked, motioning to the jar and vials and hastily trying to change the subject.

Snape glared at him a moment before picking up the small jar. "This is a healing balm for your face. It will greatly help with the pain and healing time. It's actually something of my own invention from my personal stores."

Harry felt himself staring at Snape again like he had grown an additional head, as the man so eloquently put it earlier. "Thank you, sir," he murmured quietly.

"There is a mirror on the inside of that wardrobe door. You may apply it now, if you'd like."

Harry picked up the jar, suddenly beginning to wonder if his uncle had hit him harder than he'd realized. Watching Snape over his shoulder through the mirror, he began to wonder if maybe this entire evening had been some sort of weird fever dream, because nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

He handed the jar back to Snape, who placed it on the desk and said, "I'll leave it here for you. Use it whenever your face pains you."

"And what's this, sir?" Harry asked, picking up the glass vial. It was filled with a lavender colored potion that seemed to emit a soft, soothing glow.

"Sleeping Draught."

"Sir…?"

"It's called Dreamless Sleep. It will help keep any nightmares suppressed so that you may get some sleep."

Harry didn't know what to say. The feeling of an adult actually _caring_ about his feelings, worried that he might not sleep well after the day's traumatic events, was extremely foreign to him. Knowing that it was _Snape,_ of all people, made it even stranger.

But Harry was genuinely touched. He had a difficult time meeting the man's eyes, worried that his professor would see the moisture pooling there. To cover his sudden emotion, he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank the potion down in one gulp. It immediately made him drowsy.

"Thank you, sir."

"It's late. Get in bed. I'm not far away if you need me." Harry didn't speak as he did what he was told. _For Snape, that was practically like reading him a bedtime story and tucking him in._ Maybe he really _was_ concussed.

"G'night, sir," Harry murmured sleepily as Snape flicked off the light.

He had a suspicion the boy was already asleep when he murmured, "Sleep well, Potter."


	7. Chapter 6

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 6**

Snape sat downstairs in his chair by the fire, nursing a stiff drink and wondering what the hell had happened to his life. Not only did he currently have the child of his nemesis sleeping upstairs in his old bedroom, but he was going out of his way to make sure said child was well-taken care of after the horrendous events he had suffered that day.

Potter had fallen asleep quickly – he'd checked on him shortly after he'd taken the potion. He supposed that was to be expected for the boy, even as nervous as he'd been being in Snape's presence that evening. After all, there was only so much emotion that one could go experience before they passed out as, Potter had done.

He examined his blistered palm, better now after using the ointment, and wondered what in Merlin's name had possessed him to do what he'd done. He'd mastered his emotions years ago, when he'd first turned spy for Dumbledore and the old man had taught him Occlumency, the better to spy on the Dark Lord. He hadn't cut or wounded his body since he'd been a young man. Dumbledore had been the one to teach him the calm control that he so prided himself on now. Yet another thing to be grateful to the old coot for…

Snape knew the headmaster would be paying him a visit sometime that night. In the Patronus message he'd dispatched to Nymphadora, he'd been sure to include instructions to inform the headmaster of the turn of events immediately. The fact that Dumbledore hadn't come as of yet had Snape feeling somewhat uneasy; the Aurors must be having a difficult time modifying the memories of those evil little bastards. Or the Ministry was trying to insert itself where it didn't belong in Potter's life, yet again…

Snape say quietly, studying his drink when a sudden terrified scream rent the air. Snape dropped the drink and was on his feet, taking the stairs three at a time, his wand at the ready as he burst into his old bedroom. He spun in the darkness, searching for an intruder, perhaps another Death Eater… anything that could have caused Potter to scream so fearfully. But there was nothing.

Potter's body arched as he shrieked yet again, long, drawn out, and petrified.

" _NOOOOOOOOO!"_

The boy was having a nightmare. _But how…?_ Snape thought in confusion. _The boy took Dreamless Sleep… I watched him take it._

"Sirius!" Potter screamed, "Don't leave me! _Sirius!"_

He was dreaming of his Godfather. The stupid mutt had selfishly gone off and gotten himself killed at the Ministry, leaving the boy alone with his abominable relatives. _No thanks to your taunting,_ that small voice inside him whispered. For once Snape found the guilt strong enough to withstand his ability to brush it aside.

"Please, no! Uncle Vernon, _PLEASE!_ I'll be good, I swear! _DON'T DO THIS!"_

The fear that Potter was so obviously experiencing propelled Snape to the edge of the bed. He'd figure out the reason for the unbidden nightmare later. Reaching down to shake the boy awake, he grabbed Potter's shoulder. But the moment Snape's fingers connected with the boy, Potter erupted.

"NO! Please Uncle Vernon! Get him off me! PLEASE DON'T LET DUDLEY TOUCH ME! _PLEASE!"_

Snape grasped his shoulders with both hands now, trying desperately to wake him. "Potter!" But the boy grabbed Snape's forearms and bucked, rolling them both to the floor. Potter was on top of him, scratching at Snape's face, desperate to get away from his dream attacker. Grasping the boy's shoulders again, he flung Potter to the side and rolled on top of him, placing his substantial weight on top of the boy's body in order to calm his struggles.

"NO! GET OFF ME!" Harry cried, hot tears streaming down his face as his legs unexpectedly freed themselves and landed one perfect kick to Snape's ribs.

Snape heard a loud _crack_ and cried out as a sudden pain tore through his side. The boy had cracked a rib, maybe even broken it. But Snape threw his weight on top of the struggling young man again, cringing at the agony in his side.

"Harry!" he gasped painfully, "Harry, it's alright. It's me! It's Professor Snape!"

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

A voice suddenly penetrated the haze of Harry's nightmare. _Harry…_ it whispered from the dark mists at the edge of his mind. _It's_ _alright, Harry._ Odd… Uncle Vernon and Dudley never called him by his first name, usually preferring to refer to him as "freak" or "creep".

He realized suddenly that his uncle and cousin were gone, the one no longer using his meaty fists to inflict pain while the other tried to stop his squirming and force himself upon Harry. Harry was alone, utterly and completely alone. Startled and scared at the sudden turn of events, he began to stumble around in the emptiness. Tears streamed down his face as he called out in the dark, unsure of what – or _who –_ he was searching for.

 _Harry…_ he heard the whisper again. _I'm here, Harry…_

With a choking sob, he suddenly awoke to find Snape on top of him. Strangely, Harry was not afraid of the man. Instead he began to tremble so hard that his teeth chattered. He couldn't stop the tears from falling, trickling into his ears and wetting the small hairs at his temple since he was laying on his back. The deep, shuttering gasps echoed throughout the dark room.

"Harry?" Snape murmured, but the sound of his name did nothing to calm him. Grunting and holding his side, Snape slowly maneuvered off of him and pulled them both upright, holding Harry's shoulder with his free hand as he tried to peer into Harry's face. Harry hurled himself into his professor's chest, throwing his arms around the man. Snape caught him with a grunt and a slight gasp, but didn't hesitate to wrap his free hand around Harry's back, making soothing noises as he held Harry in his arms.

Harry was unsure how long they stayed like that. He had never experienced anything like it before, at least not anything that he could remember since his parents died. For the first time that he could ever remember, Harry actually felt cared about and safe. The thought made his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Pulling away and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his pajamas, Harry didn't know where to look. He scooted back until his back hit the edge of the bed. "I'm… I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean… I don't know what happened."

Snape hadn't moved, and Harry noticed for the first time that he had one arm wrapped across his waist, holding his side. His breathing seemed a little shallow.

"Do you often have nightmares?" he asked Harry after a long moment.

"Yes, sir. But nothing like that." Harry chanced a glance at the man, but looked quickly away. "I learned a long time ago to keep quiet at night. The Dursley's never liked to be woken up when I had bad dreams…"

Snape was quiet for a moment, and Harry listened to the man's shallow, raspy breaths as he watched his own fingers twisting nervously in his lap. Snape broke the silence.

"It's not your fault. You had a bad reaction to the Dreamless Sleep. For some reason it enhanced the nightmare's effects instead of suppressing them."

"Oh," Harry murmured, still not meeting his professor's eyes.

"Potter. Look at me." He waited until Harry complied before quietly saying, "It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong." He stared at Harry for a long moment, his eyes glinting in the darkness. Harry felt strangely exposed, but not threateningly so. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?" the professor suddenly asked.

"I don't think so, sir…" Harry admitted.

A strange look crossed Snape's face, but after a moment he grudgingly said, "Why don't you come with me, then. I could… use your help."

Harry got to his feet, but was confused when Snape had a hard time doing the same. Without taking his arm off his side, the professor tried to rise, but collapsed onto the floor again with a groan.

"Professor!" Harry dropped to the man's side and gingerly draped Snape's free arm about his own shoulders. He stood slowly, bringing the taller man up with him. "What happened, sir?" he asked as Snape leaned heavily on Harry for support as they made their way out of the room. Snape motioned for him to go downstairs.

"Broken rib," Snape grunted in obvious pain as they took the stairs one at a time. "Cracked, at the very least."

" _A broken…?"_ Suddenly it dawned on Harry, and he stopped on one of the stairs, horrified. "Bloody hell, did _I_ do this to you?! Sir, I'm-!"

"Don't you dare apologize, Potter," Snape growled. "I'm well aware it was an accident." Harry kept moving, biting his tongue the entire way to keep from repeating how sorry he was.

They reached the entrance hall at the base of the stairs, and Snape motioned to a closed door opposite the library across the hall. "My study," Snape murmured. Opening the door and feeling for the light switch on the wall, Harry squinted in the sudden bright light. The study was almost exactly the same as the library – floor to ceiling bookshelves along three of the walls. On the last wall, sitting next to the door, was a sofa much like the ones across the hall. There was a painting of a grand manor house hung above it. A large, solid desk sat in the middle of the room, with parchments and quills scattered across its surface.

"The desk," Snape ground out, and Harry turned them around so that the professor could perch himself against the edge. When the man was half standing, half slouching against the large desk, he said, "Now comes the hard part. I need your help to get my shirt off."

"Uhhhhh…"

"I'm not pleased either, Potter. If I'd known this morning that I was going to be sitting here half-naked, I would have called for the company of a beautiful, full-breasted woman, not some mortified teenage boy. But we'll need to wrap my rib. So just do it."

Harry was in such a rush to get the unwelcome task over with, he accidentally yanked Snape's arm in a painful way as he was unbuttoning his black overcoat. "Easy, boy!" Snape ground out.

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered guiltily, then went back to work slowlyandcarefullyunbuttoning the rest. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you wore stuff that had zippers."

Harry couldn't tell if he caused Snape to be in pain, or if the man was actually showing his human side again, for the professor let out a breath that sounded peculiarly like a chuckle. However, the man was moaning in pain a moment later as he stretched out his arms to remove his overcoat.

"Sorry…"

"Now… the shirt," Snape rasped, unbuttoning the wrists of the white button-down while he held his hands limply in his lap. He groaned again a moment later as Harry helped him take first one arm, then the other out of the shirt.

Harry was shocked to see purplish scars crisscrossing his professor's forearms, biceps, and chest, but said nothing. He was also surprised to see that the professor was kind of… well… _strong._ Harry had never thought about it before since the man was usually covered head to foot. But he supposed after years of grinding things into a find dust with a mortar and pestle (which he knew from experience could be hard) would eventually give one very strong arms.

After the movement of removing the overcoat and shirt, Snape was out of breath and obviously in tremendous pain. "Go down… to… potions lab. The door… in the kitchen. Looks… like a basement. Incantation… 'Ostendete'." Harry rushed to comply as he heard the agony in the man's voice, hurrying towards the door and almost forgetting the most important information in his rush to help.

"Sir," he asked hastily as he turned back to face his professor. "What potions should I get?"

"Skele-Grow," Snape hissed. "Pain potion. Bandage."

Harry sprinted to the kitchen, spotting a wooden door at the rear of the room. Flinging it open, he ran down the concrete stairs, not surprised when he saw an ordinary, dank-looking muggle basement. "Ostendete!"

The floors and the walls shifted and changed before his very eyes, and he would have found it quite amazing had he not been in such a hurry. "C'mon… _C'mon!"_ he muttered. White marble stone slabs replicated and unfolded themselves along the floor and up the walls, and shelves full of ingredients and potions rose from beneath the floor to settle against three of the walls. Cauldrons of all sizes sat on a long bench along the one remaining wall, some even bubbling softly with potions. Many candelabras dropped into place from the ceiling, swinging gently into place and casting the room in a warm, well-lit glow. The final object to come through the floor – a large work desk in a blocky U-shape – finally settled in place in the middle of the large space.

Harry hurried over to the shelves containing the bottled potions, all glowing from within, casting different shades and shimmering colors onto the wall. He found the Skele-Grow bottle quickly, remembering the black bone-covered bottle from his second year, when Lockheart had removed all the bones in his arm. He also remembered the grass-green pain potion well enough, having taken it multiple times during his school career while under the care of Madam Pomfrey.

The bandages were a little more difficult to find, hidden in a basket in the back of the large supply shelves. There was a bit of a mess when Harry was done, but he didn't care at the moment. He'd come back down later and clean up. Racing back up the stairs, Harry skidded into the study, out of breath.

"Relax Potter," the professor murmured, "I'm not dying."

Harry just glared at the man before asking, "What now?"

"Get that glass next to the decanter on the shelf," Snape muttered. "Now pour about an ounce. More… Not that much! _Honestly_ boy, have I taught you nothing in the past five years?" the man groused. Harry almost smiled as he poured a bit back into the bottle. The professor must not be as badly off as Harry thought if he was strong enough to harass him.

Snape gingerly held out his hand for the smoking glass of Skele-Grow, wincing slightly. "Have that pain potion ready. This bloody stuff tastes like piss," he grumbled with a disgusted look on his face.

"I know," Harry chuckled quietly. "I remember." He handed the vial of pain potion over to Snape, who used it as a chaser after gently tossing back the Skele-Grow.

As Harry helped bind his professor's rib cage, Snape glanced over his shoulder at him and muttered, "You're quite good at wrapping ribs, Potter. Have you done this before?"

Harry glanced at Snape, but couldn't hold his gaze. He continued to wrap as he admitted, "Uncle Vernon and Dudley have gotten a little… overenthusiastic… in the past. It was always someone from school that said something – my teachers, the school nurse." Harry shrugged, "The Dursleys kind of _had_ to take me to the ER after that, or the authorities would have been called. So yeah… I know a little about wrapping ribs. Not too tight, so that you don't get a lung infection. But tight enough to hold it steady when you move."

He offered Snape a smile, to prove that he was capable of remembering some things and wasn't a complete dunderhead. But as Snape continued to watch him with a cold angry look on his face, Harry immediately assumed that he had done something to irritate the man. "I don't mean to complain, sir!" He quickly tried to explain. "I just thought-"

"Potter. Stop." Harry immediately stopped taping the bandages, staring worriedly at his professor. " _You_ didn't do anything wrong. Stop apologizing." Harry flushed into the uncomfortable silence, still staring at his professor.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape took another deep breath, obviously not doing a decent job of hiding his anger from the boy. The more he heard about Potter's relatives, the more he pitied the fact that he was no longer a _true_ Death Eater that could storm their house and show them the exact definition of evil…

Potter had been abused growing up, and was obviously uncomfortable with the thought that not everything was his fault. _A notion definitely aided along by myself before today,_ Snape thought, swallowing back a pang of guilt. The boy was turning out to be very different than the spoiled, pampered brat he'd always assumed he was since meeting him five years ago.

He broke eye contact in order to tentatively stretch his arms and test the makeshift wrapping. "I'll have to take it slow over the next few days. But this process would have been a lot harder without you, Potter. Thank you."

The boy blushed an even deeper shade of crimson as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah… Sure. You wouldn't have even needed to do it if it wasn't for me, but…"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he carefully slipped his arms through the sleeves of his button down, leaving it open so as not to put much more pressure against his ribs. "I don't like repeating myself, Potter. Do not test my patience in this regard." Glancing at the unfinished paperwork on his desk, and knowing that there was too much adrenaline still running through the boy's system to let him sleep, Snape considered that he may as well get some work done while waiting for the headmaster.

"I know that sending you back to bed would be useless at this point. Sit over there," he nodded towards the couch. Potter looked confused, but went and sat nonetheless. Snape rose slowly and carefully, moving to one of the bookshelves.

 _What to give a rash, reckless, abused Gryffindor who had a problem with guilt, and was destined to fight the strongest dark wizard of this era, having all the hopes of the wizarding world pinned upon his thin shoulders? No pressure, Severus._ He thought hard for a long moment. Then he had a flash of brilliance.

Pulling a thin tome from the shelves, Snape ran his fingers over the beaten old cover before walking over and tossing it into Potter's lap. "The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. I want 36 inches by the end of summer on how the theories in this book can help you defeat The Dark Lord."

"You're assigning me _homework?"_ Potter said in a horrified tone.

"I'm teaching you to _think,_ Potter. You have courage – I'll grant you that. But you're impulsive. You need to learn the value of planning, of studying your opponent and identifying his weaknesses – as well as your own – before you attack." The boy still looked dismayed. "It's not _that_ big of a book, Potter. If, after reading it, you still can't draw any parallels between it and your current situation, then I shall help you." He walked towards his desk, muttering, "But if that's the case then Merlin help us all."

An hour later, as he finished the last of his paperwork that evening, Snape glanced up to find the boy slumped against the back of the sofa, the book open on his chest. Snape gingerly rose from his chair behind the desk, carefully making his way across the room to the sleeping boy. He picked up the book, marking the page Potter had been on when he fell asleep. He was happy to see that he had made it halfway through chapter 3 before passing out.

With a little difficulty and a few twinges of discomfort, he bent and picked up Potters legs, laying him flat on the sofa. He took the boy's glasses off his face, which looked as if they were digging painfully into the side of his nose, and placed them on the side table on top of the book. He had just conjured a pillow and thick quilt, laying it across the sleeping boy when he heard the sudden flare of the floo and then headmaster's voice.

"Severus?"

Snape used his wand to dim the lights in his study, closing the door not quite all the way as he backed out of the room. Walking into the sitting room, Snape saw the shock on the old man's face as he took in his current condition, half naked and wearing only an unbuttoned white shirt.

"Are you alright, my boy?"

"Fine. But regarding Mr. Potter…" he paused wanting to get right to the point. "I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you."


	8. Chapter 7

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 7**

Harry's mind drifted into consciousness thinking he was back in his cupboard. But that couldn't be right because the smell of frying bacon was strong, meaning breakfast was already in the process of cooking. _That's usually my job. Wonder why I didn't hear them banging on the cupboard door?_ As he rubbed his face against the fluffy pillow before opening his eyes, he realized he must be back in Dudley's spare bedroom. _Wait… Fluffy pillow?_ Harry didn't even _own_ a pillow at the Dursley's, and the blankets on which he slept were scratchy and full of holes. But _this_ blanket was plush and thick, meaning that for once he had actually woken up warm.

Harry was disoriented as he opened his eyes, his vision blurry as he reached out and tapped around, looking for his glasses. Finally feeling the wire rims, Harry sat up and put them on. He sat very still, his eyes roaming the room as knowledge of the previous evening trickled back into his brain. He cringed as he remembered some of the more humiliating parts.

Snape was nowhere to be seen, although he did see a neatly folded pile of extra pillows and blankets tucked into the corner. His eyes then found an outfit draped over the back of the desk chair – a pair of black trousers and a white button down, both shrunk down to his size.

Harry wasn't sure if he was grateful or dismayed at Snape's thoughtfulness about the change of clothes. _What was I expecting? Jeans and a hoodie sweatshirt?*_ Harry couldn't help but smile weakly at the thought of his professor donning such casual muggle wear in his off time. _It would actually fit better in a house like this…_

Harry knew he was stalling, embarrassed to face the professor after… well, everything. But his stomach was starting to get the best of him as the additional smells of ham and eggs drifted in, so Harry folded the bed covers and placed them on top of the others before dressing quickly and investigating breakfast.

There was a flurry of activity as Harry walked into the kitchen, utensils flying across the room to various pots and pans, flipping, stirring, and chopping ingredients of their own accord. Harry watched in amazement, only taking notice of Snape when the man crinkled the Daily Prophet as he turned the page. He sat at an old yellow Formica table, the top nicked and scratched, bits of old material from the matching four pleather chairs flaking off and revealing their ancient padding. Snape said nothing, nor did he look at Harry as he took a sip of coffee from a plain white mug.

"Uh… Morning," Harry mumbled, still standing in the doorway.

After a long, uncomfortable pause where Snape said nothing, the man finally muttered darkly, "Are you going to sit down and eat? Or are you just going to stand there and continue gawking at me?"

Harry's face flamed as he quickly moved to take a seat. A plate heaped with eggs, bacon, ham, and toast flew across the kitchen and settled in front of him on the table with a loud _clack._

"Wow," Harry said in bewilderment, "That's…um… a lot of food."

Without taking his eyes off the paper, Snape replied, "You are skinny for your age. I couldn't help but notice last night when you were weeping pathetically and had your arms around me."

Harry glared at Snape, his face flaming crimson yet again. _Was the man trying to be such a prat?_ _Or did it just come naturally?_ He remembered how tightly Snape's arms had held Harry as he cried in the darkness, the professor's calm, soothing strength offering Harry the comfort he'd so desperately needed. But to have Harry's childish behavior thrown back in his face mortified him.

Long minutes of uncomfortable silence ensued, filled only with Harry picking at his food finding that his appetite had quickly faded.

"If you're done," Snape announced suddenly into the silence, still not looking up from his paper. "We have errands to run."

 _Great,_ Harry thought, _I can't wait to spend the day with YOU._ He was trying hard not to be unappreciative of all the man had done for him, but Snape's churlish behavior was making it difficult.

"I also noticed that you left a mess in my lab last night," Snape continued, turning the page of The Prophet. "You will be spending the afternoon scrubbing cauldrons to make up for your carelessness."

 _What?!_ Thought Harry in dismay. _First homework and now this?_ Where was this sudden shift in behavior coming from? Why had Harry even considered that Snape was able to show any human emotion towards him, other than hatred? Obviously last night had been… Harry didn't know what. An episode of "The Twilight Zone", maybe. But _this_ was the Snape he'd known and grown to hate over the past five years, and his chest constricted as he felt their old roles sliding irrevocably back into place. Harry was eager to get as far away from the man as he could, as his lungs suddenly felt as if they were being squeezed by a full grown mountain troll.

"When do I go home?" Harry choked out, staring down at his plate.

"You don't," Snape stated, finally deigning to look at him as he snapped the newspaper closed. "You will be staying with me until the Order can determine what to do with you."

 _Was life really this unfair?!_

"'What to do with me', sir?"

"Yes Potter, _what to do with you._ Seeing as how you cannot go back to the protection of the blood wards due to your atrocious behavior."

" _My_ behavior?" Harry was shocked, and although he hated to admit it, hurt. "I.. I didn't— I never asked to be brought here! _You_ brought me, after… after…" Harry couldn't finish, anger and humiliation once again warring within him. The mountain troll squeezed tighter.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. And about your… _altercation…_ with your cousin, I spoke to the headmaster last night—"

Harry couldn't take any more. He was on his feet and sprinting out the door before Snape could finish spewing his revulsion at him.

 _Oh God._

It was bad enough that Snape had witnessed what had happened between him and Dudley. But for Snape to tell _Dumbledore…_

"Potter!" Harry heard Snape call out behind him as he threw open the front door. "Potter, get back here!"

Harry slowed when he reached the street, unsure which way to go, but threw caution to the wind when he heard Snape following. _Let the bastard try and follow me with a broken rib,_ he thought savagely. Dashing down the street, Harry ran for the second time in as many days.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

"Potter!" Snape called as Harry jumped up from the table. "Potter, get back here!" But the boy ignored him. Snape lunged as the boy ran past him, staggering painfully to his feet as Potter threw open the front door. "Potter!" he shouted again, the first tendrils of panic just starting to squeeze his heart. "Potter, _don't!"_

By the time Snape made it to the door, Potter was gone.

 _"DAMMIT!"_

His rib was already aching from the sudden movement, but he couldn't just leave the boy out there roaming the streets. There was a _reason_ why members of the Order had been watching him this summer – Voldemort and his Death Eaters wanted nothing so much as they wanted to spill Harry's blood. But not before they all had a go at torturing him first…

 _No. Don't think like that. Just GO!_

Whipping his wand out of his inner sleeve pocket, he hissed, "Harry Potter… Point me!"

As he hurried in the direction his wand pointed, Snape couldn't help but imagine all the heinous, unspeakable acts that he'd witness the Death Eaters perform over the years. But all of that would pale in comparison to what they would do to Potter if they found the boy before he did.

 _What the hell was wrong with him?_!

Why had he pushed the boy so hard? It wasn't Potter's fault that the old coot had gotten under his skin last night. Just because Snape had taken the boy away from his hideous relatives – something that should have been done _years_ ago – didn't mean that Snape actually _gave a damn._ It wasn't like he had any claim on the boy, anyway.

He stopped to repeat the spell, but realized that he had been going the wrong direction and had to double back. "Bloody HELL," he ground out, frustration and worry clawing at his injured ribs like a trapped hippogriff. He remembered Dumbledore's words from the previous evening, replaying them in his mind as he turned around, pacing quickly down the street.

. . . . .

 _"Why didn't you call for someone, Severus? The Aurors have had to utilize more memory charms over the past six hours than they've had to use over the past six months. They're not happy that you exposed your magic to so many muggles."_

 _"The boy was being physically attacked. What was I supposed to do, Albus? Stand by and hope he wasn't killed while waiting for backup?"_

 _Snape met the old man's gaze defiantly, daring him to contradict his actions he'd instinctively taken to protect Potter. The headmaster looked ragged, his shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh._

 _"No… I suppose you're right." He paused, his eyes far away and looking troubled as he considered the scene of Harry's attack. "Harry's cousin and his group needed to be taken to St. Mungo's to heal their injuries before they could be obliviated. Young Mr. Dursley's parents were… not happy, to say the least. I assume Dudley and his gang's beating of Harry must have been severe for you to react like you did."_

 _Dumbledore assumed that Harry had been beaten by his cousin. Beaten, and not almost raped. Because as knowledgeable and experienced as the man was, even he couldn't envision something that abhorrent happening to the boy._

 _Snape didn't bother correct the headmaster, infact even encouraged the misconception, and he couldn't understand why. Potter wasn't his responsibility. His injuries were not Snape's to heal. It wasn't his secret to protect._

 _And yet…_

 _And yet, Snape realized in horror, that's exactly what he wanted to do: protect the boy from any more hurt than he'd already experienced in his short life. Potter didn't deserve to be used as a pawn in an old man's games, no matter that Dumbledore claimed it was for, "The greater good"; he didn't deserve to continually have the Ministry interfere in his life when all the boy wanted to do was get on with it; he didn't deserve to be continuously overwhelmed, controlled, and manipulated – which was exactly what would happen if Snape told Dumbledore the complete truth of Potter's attack._

 _"Did they wound him much?" Dumbledore asked, unaware of Snape's racing thoughts behind his cool demeanor._

 _"No," Snape responded quietly, "I was able to get there in time." The headmaster didn't even begin to realize the enormity of what those words meant to Snape. Worse, Snape hadn't realized what they would mean to HIM._

 _The very awareness of his burgeoning feelings toward the boy made him panic._

" _So where will the boy go, Albus?" Dumbledore stared across the coffee table at him as Snape struggled to tamp down his emotions for the second time that day. One evening with Potter under his roof and his carefully constructed identity was beginning to crumble._

" _It is my belief that Harry would be safest here, for the time being."_

" _Here?" Snape asked, desperately trying to summon his best sneer. "I was under the impression that you actually wanted the boy to LIVE through the summer."_

 _The old coot's eyes has twinkled at that, as if he and Potter hadn't been at war since the first time the boy had set foot at Hogwarts. As if he hadn't been a genuine Death Eater for the past seventeen years, committing unspeakably cruel acts even though he'd been a spy for the Order. As if he hadn't been at the mercy of someone like his father for eleven long and tortuous years, learning what it meant to "love" a child._

" _Severus, my boy," Dumbledore interrupted his troubled musings. "I do not believe Harry could be any safer than he is at exactly this moment. I and other members of the Order are doing what we can to prevent the information of Harry's departure from his relatives from leaking out. If, however, Voldemort hears of these developments – as I'm sure you will agree that he eventually will, since the Ministry is falling slowly back under his control – then this is the last place they would come looking for the boy. After all, who would think that Voldemort's right-hand man, his most trusted servant, would ever encounter Harry Potter without immediately bringing him to his master?"_

 _Snape's mouth thinned into a line reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall. The headmaster had a point, but there were still many things to consider._

" _And what of MY safety, Albus? Have you stopped to consider that? Countless Death Eaters have been to my home or know where I live. What if one of them should come calling?"_

" _You have always been known as a man that values his privacy, Severus," the blasted old coot said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."_

 _After the headmaster left, Snape had conjured a small cot in his study since he couldn't make it up the stairs in his current condition (although he eventually admitted to himself that he really just wanted to be close to Potter in case he had another nightmare). It was as he lay a few feet from the boy, watching his chest rise and fall in peaceful slumber, that the voice inside Snape's head began once again to creep into his thoughts, clawing slowly and painfully at his mind like a parasite burrowing into his brain._

 _What exactly did he think he was doing?_

 _Of all the people who claimed to care about Potter, why was it his diluted assumption that the boy would be better off with HIM? A man who was incapable of affection or emotion. A man who had only cared about a single person in his entire life, other than himself. A man who's own father—_

. . . . .

Snape stumbled on the uneven pavement, the disturbing thoughts distracting him from paying attention to the task at hand. Hissing in pain, he staggered to a halt. _I'm likely to fall and break the rest of my bloody bones at this rate._ Grasping his agonizing rib, he repeated the Point Me spell once more.

It seemed that Harry was on the move and refusing to slow down, making it impossible for Snape to follow.

 _It didn't matter,_ Snape suddenly realized _._ Harry could run all night, Snape could be near collapse, and it still wouldn't matter. Because as terrified as he was to admit it, Harry had somehow started to worm his way into his long-dead heart. Snape steeled himself as he pushed the pain into a corner of his brain.

He wasn't stopping until the boy was safely back where he belonged.

. . . . .

 _*The jeans and a sweatshirt is a small homage to one of my favorite Severitus stories, a narrative by hairball26 called, "Walking the Line". Although unfinished (*nudge nudge* You're killin' me, Smalls – your story is amazing!), the story is an absolute joy to read. It has some of the best and most well fleshed-out characters since JK herself. The scenes with Snape dressed in a teenager's jeans and sweatshirt while trapped in the mugglest of muggle households were particularly entertaining. Definitely put a big, goofy grin on my face, although I'm sure Severus would throw a few hexes my way for saying so._


	9. Chapter 8

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 8**

Harry had absolutely no idea where he was when he finally stopped running. Which wasn't saying much because he'd honestly had no idea where he'd been when he started. All he knew was that he had twisted and turned through the industrial neighborhood and corresponding district so many times, there was no way he'd be able to remember his was back.

Harry wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to go back. Snape had made it painfully clear how he felt about being forced to take Harry in. No matter what had happened last night, it was clear to Harry that nothing had changed between them.

Harry walked aimlessly for a few more blocks, not even paying attention to which way he was going anymore. Cars went rushing past as he came to a busier street.

Eventually the happy sounds of playing children invaded his troubled thoughts, overriding even the sounds of the congested traffic in the streets beside him. Harry decided to investigate, thinking that a playground would be as safe a place as any to get his bearings. As long as he didn't do anything to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he should be able to sit there undisturbed for a while and figure out what to do.

The sounds grew louder as he drew closer to the source, but he still couldn't see the playground due to a copse of dense trees bordering the sidewalk. As he continued walking and the trees began to thin, he thought he saw the twinkling reflection of water through the trunks and branches…

Harry was about to round the corner to the park's entrance when a small red-headed girl darted out in front of him. She dashed into the road after chasing a bouncing rubber ball, giggling as she chased it. Harry's eyes widened in horror as he saw cars bearing down on her at ridiculous speeds. "JILLIAN!" A woman screamed as the vehicles came barreling towards the tiny girl without any hint of slowing down.

Harry acted on impulse.

"No!" he cried as he reached out for the girl, who was a good ten feet away from him. With a sudden _crack!_ they were both on the ground on the opposite side of the street, the girl wrapped safely in his arms and the traffic continuing to speed by.

 _What the hell just happened…?_ Harry thought wildly, holding tight to the girl. _Did I just preform unintentional magic?_ That hadn't happened in a while.

Breathing deep to calm his pounding heart, he lifted his head to examine the little thing in his arms, whose thin arms were currently wrapped around his waist. Wide hazel eyes full of surprise, her little eyebrows slowly crinkled in confusion when she looked up at him.

A frantic woman came running toward them, her steps stilted and halting as she dodged and weaved through the speeding traffic. Successfully making it to the opposite side of the street, her long auburn hair fanned out behind her as she sprinted down the sidewalk towards them.

"Jillian… _oh my God!_ Jilly!" The woman fell to her knees beside Harry, scooping the young girl into her arms and burying her face in her daughter's hair. Harry felt rather like a voyeur witnessing her raw emotion, but he couldn't tear his gaze away as the woman heaved panicked gasps of air into her lungs and gently rocked her child back and forth. His heart clenched at the sight, wondering if this is what his mother had looked like, desperately, protectively clutching him in the final moments before she was killed…

Disturbed by the thought, Harry made to stand and move quietly away in order to give them space. But the woman grabbed his hand before he could back away, and Harry clearly felt the relief surging through her trembling fingers.

" _Thank you,"_ she whispered sincerely, staring up at him with wide eyes. He saw that they were green like his but a few shades lighter, and at that moment they were locked on him with reverent intensity. "I don't know what I would have done…"

"Mommy," the little girl cried in a muffled voice against her mother's shoulder, "You're squeezing me too hard!"

The older woman made a nervous sound, the adrenaline that must have rushed through her system not completely ebbed yet. "Sorry Jilly-Bean," she said, releasing Harry and pushing her daughter to her feet as she knelt eye-to-eye with her. She brushed her daughter's hair away from the small, cherubic face. "You scared Mommy. You know you're not supposed to cross the road without me!" She said again, pulling her daughter into another quick hug before holding her out again. "Are you alright?"

"That boy saved me," Jillian said, pointing and smiling brightly up at Harry.

"I know he did," said her mother, glancing sideways at Harry with a smile on her face. "What do you think you should say to him?"

Jilly thought for a moment, her little eyebrows scrunched again in concentration, then turned to Harry, beaming. "Do you want a sandwich?"

Her mother laughed outright, and Harry couldn't help but appreciate the sound. It was so bright and full of life – not things that he had much of these days.

He couldn't help it. He smiled.

"I was thinking more along the lines of saying, _'Thank you'_ ," her mother said through a chuckle. "But sure, he can have a sandwich. So how about it?" she asked, looking up and addressing Harry. "Would you like to join us?"

"Uhhhh…" Harry glanced at the little girl, who was looking hopefully up at him. _It's not like I have anywhere to be at the moment..._ "Sure. I'll join you."

The little girl – _Jillian –_ jumped excitedly up and down, then grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him eagerly forward toward the crosswalk, visible half a block away down the road. "My name is Jilly-Bean. I'm five. I had a princess birthday party last month. How old are you?"

"Um… I'll be sixteen at the end of the month," Harry responded.

Harry was a bit flabbergasted by the little girl's rapid-fire questions, and Jillian's mother laughed her bubbly laugh again at the look on his face. "Only child?" she asked, a grin spreading across her face.

"Well..." _How did he respond to that?_ "Kind of. I have a cousin," he admitted quietly, not liking the feelings evoked by thinking about Dudley. "But he's my age."

"Sorry," the older woman responded with a smile, "Jillian can come on a little strong. She doesn't seem to understand the idea of 'stranger danger', no matter how many times I've tried to explain."

"Oh, that's ok," Harry said quickly, still a little out of his depth with the whole situation. _So much for not drawing attention to myself…_

They had reached the crosswalk, and Jilly was bouncing up and down on her toes. "Can I push the button, Mommy?"

"Of course, baby."

They walked across the street in companionable silence, and had just reached the other side of the street when the older woman said, "I'm Lilith, by the way, but people call me Lily."

Harry's foot slipped abruptly off the curb, and he would have fallen flat on his face had she not grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Whoa! You ok?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to slow the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "I'm… My name is Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Lily said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she reached out to shake his hand. He must have been staring at her with a strange look on his face, because as she pulled her hand away she asked, "You _sure_ you're ok?"

"Yeah, um… Yeah." Harry said, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. _This is completely mental…_

Jilly thankfully saved him even more embarrassment by grabbing his hand again and pulling him toward a hillside overlooking the water. "C'mon, Harry! Our blankets over here. Mom packed a picnic with my favorite sandwiches!"

"I hope you like peanut butter, banana, and honey," Lilly offered, trudging across the grass behind her daughter. They approached a large white sheet with small flowers scattered in a haphazard pattern across it. The blanket was in the dappled shade of a large willow tree, its branches drooping enough to graze the calm surface of the water. In the middle of the blanket was a wicker picnic basket. Jillian and Lilly sat, scooting over to give Harry some room.

"So Harry," Lily said conversationally while passing around the sandwiches, bottles of water, and a large plastic container filled with sliced fruit. "Are you from around here?"

 _I'm still not really sure where_ here _is,_ Harry considered before carefully answering. "I'm from Surrey, outside of London."

"London, wow. What brings you up here to Scotland?"

 _Ok, Scotland, then._ "Um, well…" he said, thinking fast, "I go to school here." _Not really a lie._

"Oh yeah? Where about?"

 _Bugger._ But he was spared an answer when Jillian leapt to her feet and said, "I just learned to do cartwheels! Want to see, Harry?"

"Oh yeah, sure!" Harry replied with relief, smiling at the girl.

A serious look crossed Jilly's face as she concentrated, raised her hands above her head, placed her feet in the right position, and let loose with a perfectly executed cartwheel. Harry held the sandwich in his mouth to free his hands so he could clap for her, and Lily joined in, laughing. Jillian curtsied for them with a big smile before repeating the performance.

It was at that moment that Harry heard a strangled gasp behind him, and the drawn, pale features he saw as he spun around made his blood run cold.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

 _Thank God,_ Snape sagged in relief as the tip of his wand started to glow, showing him that Harry was somewhere close by. He staggered through the park entrance, his side in absolute agony but desperate to get to the boy.

He was in so much pain that he didn't realize exactly where it was that Harry had ended up. Had he been in his right mind, he would have recognized this park, even though he hadn't been there in over twenty years. Every blade of grass, every gentle curve of the hillside, every metal ring on the chains of the swing set… Snape could never forget the place where he first laid eyes on Lily Evans.

His most cherished memories had been made in this very place.

But none of that registered as he made his way across the park in a haze of worry and pain. He groaned as his wand pointed up a small hillside, but he stumbled up the gentle slope nonetheless. Snape's side was on fire only halfway up the grassy knoll, but his wand tip was radiating with intensity. He had to keep going.

Panting by the time he reached the top, the pain his side not allowing him to catch his breath, he looked around. His heart leapt as he spotted the back of a dark, untidy mop of hair that surely must belong to Harry. Seeing that the boy was unharmed, Snape closed his eyes and doubled over in a mixture of utter relief and throbbing agony.

But as the relief started to wear off, it was replaced by a searing anger. _How DARE Potter take off like that, knowing full-well the dangers that awaited him in the outside world! Didn't he realize how much people had already sacrificed in order to keep him safe and alive?! The least he could bloody well do was stay within the confines of his security!_ Eyes flashing in a rage, he lurched toward the boy, the searing pain in his side only nurturing his fury.

It wasn't until Snape was almost on top of him that he realized who the boy was with.

A strangled gasp was ripped from his throat as he stopped dead in his tracks. Wide eyed and shaken, Snape's body began to tremble uncontrollably. He was incapable of moving as he gazed at them, drinking them in like a parched man in a desert dying of thirst. Phantoms from his past come to life, both tormenting and soothing in their presence. Auburn hair tumbling across thin shoulders, swaying gently near her waist – just as it had been the last time he'd ever laid eyes on her. And the other… The younger version… Laughing and free and so full of life that it made his heart twist painfully to look upon her.

 _Lily…_

The world tilted and spun, and before he could stop himself Snape was on his knees, gasping for breath before the world suddenly went dark.


	10. Chapter 9

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 9**

"Professor!" Harry cried as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to Snape's side. His professor had fallen to his knees before collapsing heavily onto his side, and his breaths were coming in short, raspy pants. Harry rolled him onto his back and saw in a panic that the man's face was extremely pale, his normally sallow skin a healthy glow in comparison.

Suddenly Lily was there, pulling her long hair into a low ponytail before pushing him gently aside. "Watch out, Harry," she murmured softly, and Harry was grateful to get out of her way. He was shocked to see how calm and collected she seemed, when Harry was anything but.

She immediately tilted Snape's chin up, lowering her head to check his breathing. Seeming satisfied with what she found, she then placed her fingers against his neck, staring at her watch for a long, silent minute. Jilly came to stand beside Harry, slipping her hand inside his own. As ridiculous as it was, Harry was grateful for the small measure of comfort.

 _What the hell is happening to my life? First the greasy git rescues me, then practically tucks me in and kisses my forehead when I have a nightmare. Then he's back to being a right prat. And now this… AND I'M STANDING HERE GOING MENTAL WITH WORRY ABOUT HIM!_

"Do you know this man, Harry?" Lily asked Harry suddenly.

"He's my-" _What, exactly?_ "-guardian."

"Has he suffered any injuries over the past twenty-four hours?"

 _How did she know all this?_ "Yeah," he said as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. "I think he may have broken his rib last night."

She nodded, gently running her fingers over Snape's abdomen. Her forehead suddenly furrowed, and she began slightly pressing on a spot near where Snape's liver would be. The professor groaned, his eyes flickering as his body began to slowly move, as if he was trying to rise. Lily placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him still, and without warning Snape's hand snaked out with surprising speed and grasped her wrist.

Harry immediately knelt on the other side of him. "Professor?"

"What's his name, Harry?" Lily asked softly.

"Severus… Severus Snape."

"Mr. Snape?" She called a bit louder, and Snape's eyes drifted open, looking extremely dazed. He gazed up at Lily in confusion and tried to rise yet again. "Severus…" she said gently, and Snape's eyes shone with… _something._ Harry couldn't explain it – he'd never seen that look on the man's face before.

"My name is Lily," she continued calmly. "I'm an ER nurse at a local hospital. I need you to stay laying down, alright? You may need to go to the emergency room – I think your broken rib may have lacerated your liver. Harry," she said, looking up at him. "There is a pay phone down at the park next to the bathrooms. Go, quickly, call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance at—"

"No," Snape croaked suddenly from the ground beneath her, and Lily looked down at him in shock. "No…hospitals," he managed to say as he forced himself to a sitting position with a hiss of pain, despite Lily's protests.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

 _Child… Woman… Auburn hair… Full, rich laugh…_

 _Lily…_

 _His Lily…_

 _No, his Lily was dead, murdered by a madman almost sixteen years ago._

 _But… Merlin… she had seemed so REAL._

Suddenly an intense pain ripped through his abdomen, making him groan in response. The pain brought him back to his senses, and he felt small fingers prodding his side. The pain was almost unbearable, and he tried to rise in order to make it stop. But hands on his shoulders prevented him from moving. As they pressed him down against the hard ground, Snape caught one thin wrist within his grip.

"Mr. Snape?" A soft, feminine voice. Snape's eyes drifted open. His heart ground to a stuttering halt, then with a painful clench began pumping hard and fast again. _Lily…_

She was there, leaning over him. Her face was shadowed, silhouetted against the bright sky. But her long auburn ponytail had fallen over her shoulder and was glowing like fire in the sunlight. _Oh God… Lily…_

 _Am I dead? If I am, it doesn't matter. As long as I can stay here with you, I'm home. After everything I've done, all the hurt I've caused… I never thought I'd see you again…_

 _Lily…_

"Severus… My name is Lily. I'm an ER nurse at a local hospital. I need you to stay laying down, alright?"

 _Wait…_ his breath hitched as confusion took hold. _The eyes…_ Her eyes were different, lighter in color, rounder in shape. And what had she'd said about an ER? Lily had never worked at a hospital…

"You may need to go to the emergency room – I think your broken rib may have lacerated your liver." He looked again, his eyes narrowing. Her nose was different. Smaller, perkier, with a slight tilt at the end. The shape of her face was heart-shaped, where Lily's had been oval.

 _Lily… No, no, NO! It was her… I KNOW IT WAS HER! Please God, don't do this to me. I SAW HER!_

"Harry," she murmured.

 _Harry. Lily._ His Lily. There was something he was supposed to be doing for his Lily… _HARRY. Oh praise Merlin, I found him!_ The boy was alive and safe. _I'll keep him safe for you, Lily._

"There is a pay phone down at the park next to the bathrooms. Go, quickly, call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance at—"

"No," Snape rasped, his throat tight and thick with emotion. _Call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance._ This woman was a muggle. She was not his Lily… The knowledge was like a nail being driven into his heart. But he pushed the pain viciously aside, focusing instead on the promise he'd made to protect his beloved's son.

"No… hospitals." He had to get Harry home before anything happened to him. He forced himself up with a hiss of pain, despite the woman trying to push him back.

"Severus…" she said in a rush. He shot her an aggressive, hostile look, and she reconsidered. "Mr. Snape, I must insist that you allow me to call someone for you. You're broken rib seems to have caused some damage to your liver—"

"I said. _no._ _hospitals."_ Snape ground out in a dangerously low tone. "Harry." He motioned to the boy to help him rise. Harry for once listened to instruction, throwing Snape's arm over his shoulders and gently hefting him to his feet. "Let's go, Harry."

The blasted woman followed as Harry began slowly maneuvering them down the hill. "At least let me take a look at it! I live right across the street!"

"No. _Move,_ Harry." But Snape suddenly stumbled on the uneven ground, emitting a painful cry as his entire side burned in agony. He staggered as he tried to regain his footing, and Harry almost went down with him.

Stepping in front of them to cut off their retreat, the woman raised her hands in a pleading gesture. "Please. It won't take long. I'll… I'll just take a look to check for internal bleeding, then you can be on your way."

Snape didn't move for a long moment, staring intently at the woman. _Lily._ But not _his_ Lily. Although, now that Snape could see her clearly, she did seem to have the same stubborn set to her jaw that Lily had had. _That could not bode well._ He sighed in resignation.

"Sir…?" Harry asked, feeling the change in him.

Snape glared at Lily for a long moment. "Where did you say you lived?"

. . . . .

Keys jangled lightly as Lily reached out and unlocked her door, pushing it open to admit her daughter, then holding it wide as Harry maneuvered them both inside.

Looking around, Snape saw that the apartment was small, smaller even than Spinner's End. Following her down the diminutive entranceway, Snape saw an undersized kitchen to their left, which had a large opening above the sink that allowed one to look directly into the sitting room. The sitting room had oversized windows overlooking the park and river, as well as a skylight overhead, giving the room a sunny, open feeling that belied how small the space truly was.

"Harry," she directed, "bring him into the kitchen for me." The boy complied, propping him against the small, round table in the far corner and making sure that he had hold of the table's edge before letting go. Then the boy backed away, biting nervously at his lip and staring at Snape with a worried look across his face.

"Jilly-Bean," Lily called out while swiftly opening cupboards and gathering supplies. "Why don't you show Harry your room?" Harry looked as if he wanted to argue, but with a small nod from Snape, smiled down at the little girl as she approached.

"Want to see my pogs, Harry? I just got a new slammer – I'll let you use it, if you want to play."

"Sure, Jilly," he said, sounding as if he wanted to do anything but. But he rounded the corner to her room nonetheless. Snape was grateful.

His gaze turned to Lily, and he watched her silently as she continued gathering supplies. "I need to remove your shirt," she murmured. "Do you think you can do that? Or do you need my help?"

Snape glanced at his white button down, grateful that he'd decided to forgo he heavy black overcoat with the buttons along the back. Just because he'd agreed to come here did _not_ mean that he actually wanted her help. He mainly just wanted end her incessant badgering. _Let's get this over with._

But he hissed as a sharp pain tore through him when he raised his right arm to start undoing the blasted buttons. Before he had a chance to stop her, Lily was there in front of him, invading his vision as she started undoing the shirt.

 _Does the woman not know the meaning of personal space?_ He thought.

She was close enough that he could smell the light perfume emanating from her skin, and it did not take his honed potion master skills long to identify the scent. French lavender. The smell was light – intriguing – as if she had recently walked through a field of it. He could even smell it on her hair, which tickled his nose and face because of her proximity.

Snape bit back a curse at the pain as she helped carefully slide the shirt from his shoulders. However, the back of her fingers were soft and cool on his overheated skin as she inspected his abdomen. She prodded at his liver for a moment, saying, "There doesn't seem to be a lot of heat or swelling. That's good." She ran her fingers over the bandages. He had not adjusted them from the night before, and after the considerable amount of movement today, they were starting to loosen.

"I would normally insist on taking you to the hospital with an obvious liver laceration, Mr. Snape," she murmured, the displeasure clear in her tone. "But I have a feeling you'd not be the most cooperative patient."

"You would be correct in your assumption."

Head bent as she scrutinized the wrappings, she glanced up at him for a long moment through her eyelashes. Then with a resigned sigh she said, "It's normally not the best idea to wrap a broken rib because of the risk of lung infection or pneumonia. But… since I don't know how badly your liver is damaged or if there's any internal bleeding-" she glared up at him- "it's better to keep the rib stable. I'm going to rewrap this for you, alright?"

Snape tried to ignore the soft tickle of her breath against his bare skin as she bound fresh bandages across his abdomen. She had obviously done this before, as her movements were deliberate and practiced.

"Is that too tight, Mr. Snape?" she murmured at his ear.

"Call me Severus," he said with longsuffering sigh.

"Alright… Severus. Is the wrapping too tight?"

"It's manageable."

She continued in silence for a few moments, but then asked, "How did this injury happen, Severus? Does it have anything to do with why Harry has that bruise on his face?"

"You mean did I beat the boy?" Snape replied harshly.

"No…" she murmured, stopping in her ministrations to examine him as if he were some sort of puzzle. "It's clear that you two are fond of each other. I was just—"

"Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," Snape growled. Her eyes narrowed but she hurriedly bent to continue her task. He allowed his gaze to linger on her, and couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry as he watched a slight flush creep into her cheeks. The effect was quite charming, actually.

The awkward silence lengthened as she worked, and Snape wasn't sure what propelled him to admit, "The boy was… attacked. I intervened."

" _Attacked?_ " she stopped, sounding horrified. "But who would…? He's such a sweet kid."

"Mmm," Snape said noncommittally, and once again felt like she was scrutinizing him, trying to decode some great mystery.

He was beginning to lose control of this conversation. It felt… too close. Too intimate.

Trying to deflect any further questions, he posed one of his own that was sure to knock her off balance so that he could regain command. "And what of Jillian's father? Where is he in all of this?" The woman wore no ring, there were nopictures of a man anywhere in her apartment. It was a valid question.

But instead of the sudden blundering embarrassment or anger that Snape had expected, Lily merely shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He took off about a week after I told him I was pregnant, right after I finished nursing school."

"I'm… sorry."

She scoffed as she met his gaze. "No you're not. But that's alright, I can deal with bullies. Or people who think they're one."

"And where, might I ask, did _you_ learn how to deal with bullies?"

"I grew up in an orphanage."

She said it so matter-of-fact, like it held the same importance as the weather, or the color of the walls. Snape looked away, but Lily kept her gaze on him. _Why is it that I am the one who suddenly feels off balance?_

"He's lucky to have you, you know," she murmured quietly into the silence. Snape glared at her out of the corner of his eye, but she only smiled as she finished with the bandage.

"Now, regarding pain management—"

"I don't need any," he said severely, barely catching himself from finishing with, _of your_ _muggle medicine._

His firm refusal obviously took her by surprise. She paused for a moment before saying, "Severus, this is a very painful condition that you're dealing with. There's no reason for you to play the martyr."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but so did hers.

" _Fine,_ " she huffed after a long moment. "You're suffering from a major injury that us _mortals_ must check into a hospital in order to treat. _Normal_ people have to have X-rays, CT scans, blood tests... But you _obviously_ must know something we don't, because you don't need any of that _or_ pain medication to boot!" Snape couldn't be sure, but as she turned away to collect her supplies he thought he caught the words, " _Stupid, stubborn, pig-headed MULE…"_

Snape didn't know what came over him at that moment. A laugh bubbled to the surface. He almost didn't recognize it at first, the feeling was so foreign and long since forgotten.

 _Bad idea,_ he realized too late as the movement caused another searing pain to tear through his side. _Serves me right… Joviality is overrated._

Potter suddenly peered around the corner, his eyes wide and stunned.

"Problem, Potter?" Snape growled as he gingerly began putting on his shirt.

But the boy didn't seem to pick up on his dangerous tone. "Sir, were you just… _laughing?"_

"No," Snape snapped disgustedly.

Another face peeked around the corner, and Snape started to feel like the main attraction at the local zoo with amount of people staring at him. The girl had the same auburn hair as her mother, but her eyes were hazel instead of green. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"What are _you_ looking at?" he retorted, buttoning up his shirt. But the girl only grinned as she looked up at Potter.

"He _was_ laughing, Harry," she whispered, "I heard it."

"Consider yourself lucky, Jilly," Harry muttered back. "I've never even seen him crack a smile _._ Go look outside and see if the sky is falling."

All three faces were staring at him. Harry and the girl were not even trying to hide their grins. Lily, on the other hand, had covered her mouth with her fingers. But he could plainly see the mirth crinkling at the corners of her vivid green eyes.

 _I've entered the seventh circle of Hell,_ Severus thought. His revulsion must have shown, for all three suddenly burst out laughing. He glared daggers at each of them, but as he looked back down and continued with the damnable buttons, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Let's go, Potter," Snape announced a moment later, and he was pleased to see the boy jump to do his bidding. _I need to injure myself more often, if this is all it takes to actually make Potter listen…_

"Wait," Said Lily, stepping between them so that Potter could not get to Snape to help him to his feet. "Where are you going?"

He arched a brow sardonically. "Home."

"And how far is that, exactly?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"A ways."

"Andhow will you be getting there?"

 _Honestly, would the woman's nagging never cease?_ "With the legs that God saw fit to grace us with."

"Really." It was a statement, not a question, as if she were speaking to an idiot. "When that trivial hillside was just so _easy_ for you to traverse."

"And thank the Lord that I had _you_ there to save me." Snape rolled his eyes. The woman was insufferable. He couldn't wait to leave. "Let's _go,_ Potter."

Potter practically ran to his side. But Snape was irritated to see that Lily had snatched up her car keys and was in the process of marshaling her daughter.

"And just where do you think _you_ are going?" He sneered.

"I'm driving you home, obviously." _You twit,_ her tone finished.

"Your intelligence seems to be disappearing faster than your child's father, so I will make this easy for you to understand: _No."_

There was a pregnant pause for a long moment. Potter's eyes had grown so wide, he was in danger of being mistaken for a house elf. But then Lily started to advance. Slowly.

"Let me remind you of something, _Mr. Snape,"_ she seethed. "You are here because you're injured. You could barely stand when you walked through my door. You _needed_ me." Snape couldn't help but wince when she poked him in the chest – hard – as if to make her point. "You _still_ need me. So you will allow me to drive you home. And if you _insist_ on speaking again, the only thing you will be saying is, 'Thank you'." She poked him hard again. "Got it?"

Snape was too stunned to do much of anything, even nod his head, so he simply stared sullenly down at her.

Lily swung open the door, then called to Potter and Jillian over her shoulder, "Let's go, guys." Her daughter hurried to her side as Potter came to stand at his shoulder.

"I like her," Potter muttered.

"Shut up, Potter."

 _ ****Author's Note: If you understood my reference to pogs, you win the internet for the day. =}**_


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

 _ ****Author's Note: First off, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of the follows, favorites, and reviews. As a creative writer, it is always nice to know that your work is appreciated. I'm continually amazed and very pleasantly surprised every single time I get a notification, as this story began simply as a way to excise my inner creativity demons. The fact that it has grown to not only entertain myself, but people all across the globe, is an added bonus for me. A BIG one. So… Thanks. ((Insert Hagrid-sized hug for each and every one of you. Smothering by wiry beard included.))**_

 ** _On another more personal note, I don't know about you, but whenever I'm reading (no matter what it is), I always think about the characters and wonder who the author sees in their mind. I have created a webpage for "Right in Front of Me" to show my readers who I see in mine, since not all of my characters are canon. And since this story has already evolved considerably from what was originally intended, I will update the page as more characters make themselves known to me. Unfortunately I cannot give you the direct web address, as that is not allowed, but if you are so inclined you can simply Google "Shabby Beach Nest - Right Front in of Me". It's the very first link that pops up._** **** ****

 ** _This chapter was written while listening to "Lily's Theme". Because… Always._**

As Potter came around to the passenger side of the car to help him out, Snape turned to Lily. Amazingly enough, the woman was looking at him with a warm smile. She was rather remarkable, really. She wasn't _his_ Lily, but he'd never met another person quite like her.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly. It wasn't quite as difficult to say as he'd imagined.

"You're welcome," she said kindly.

As Potter opened the passenger door Jillian called from the back seat, "Bye Harry! Maybe you can some visit the park again soon."

Harry chuckled, smiling brightly at the little girl. "Yeah, I think I'd like that." he said. Turning to her mother, Potter's look became a bit more subdued. "Well. Bye…" His voice dropped to almost a whisper, "Lily."

"Take care, Harry. You know where we are if you ever want to come by and say hello."

Potter's heartfelt smile spoke volumes as he helped Snape from the car, waving back at Jilly when the little girl turned and waved as they drove away.

The two of them were silent as they made their way up the path to the front door. Snape was more than a little apprehensive as he considered the questions that could be coming his way.

It didn't take long.

Snape stiffened as Potter locked eyes with him and said, "Well that was…" He paused, obviously not possessing the words to describe the emotions.

"Indeed," Snape replied, placing his hand on the door and cutting the boy off, making it clear he didn't want to discuss it. _I'm not ready for this. Not yet. Not ever._

Potter continued, thick-skulled as ever and not taking the hint. His eyes were far away as he murmured, "She looks like the pictures I have of her, with the long red hair and green eyes and everything. And for her name to be _Lily,_ of all things… Don't you think that's strange?" He didn't even wait for a response before asking hesitantly, "Sir…? Did you… Did you know my mother?"

Snape froze. _How did Potter…?_ His thoughts came rushing, tumbling over each other in a stricken panic as he frantically considered his options. _No… there's no way! There's no POSSIBLE way that he could know…_

Snape must have been doing a very poor job at hiding his distress, for Harry took one look at his face and then continued in a rush, "I mean, you would have been at Hogwarts around the same time, right? I know she was a _Gryffindor_ , and that you probably would have stayed away from her because of my dad and everything. But…" Snape closed his eyes as his heart constricted painfully. Harry lumbered on, completely unaware. "But I was just thinking, you know, if you had any classes with her and knew what kind of… what kind of person she was…"

 _Stop talking, Potter. Please stop talking about this. About her._ The front door popped quietly open beneath his hand, and Snape couldn't get inside fast enough. He shrugged out of Potter's grasp, desperate to get away, and stumbled to the foot of the stairs.

"Sir…?" Harry questioned behind him, but Snape kept his back to the boy as he waved him away without a word. Snape forced himself up the stairs, knowing that the pain he experienced as he hobbled up every step was justified. _Befitting of a murderer. I deserve nothing less…_

He barely made it to his room before the tears began. Closing the door behind him, he pushed his back against it and slid down the side, no longer caring about the agony in his side.

Because the agony in his heart was so much worse.

His head dropped heavily into his long-fingered hands as the gut-wrenching sobs tore through his chest, making it almost impossible to draw breath. Seeing Lily… who he _thought_ was Lily… Believing that she was there, close enough to touch, to hold in his arms. To beg for her forgiveness.

 _She was right in front of me._

 _But then…_ It was like she had died all over again.

The guilt washed through him once more as the horrible memories of that long-ago night replayed through his mind. Her lifeless body crumpled on the ground; her arms splayed out in odd, unnatural angles; her mass of hair billowed out around her like a pool of blood; her face deathly pale against the vivid auburn locks. She was as beautiful in death as she had always been in life. His hands fisted tightly in his hair as the image burned itself behind his eyelids.

 _It's my fault she's dead. Kind, sweet, gentle Lily is gone because of me. I never got to say I'm sorry. I never got to say goodbye._ Snape hadn't broken down like this since those very first weeks after it had happened, when all he'd wanted to do was curl up and die right alongside her.

But then something odd happened. Something that in all those years, in all the times his mind had tortured him with images of Lily's crumpled body, he had never seen before.

 _Harry…_

Of course he'd always _known_ the boy had been there. But for the first time that he could ever recall, Snape actually _saw_ him in his memory. A mop of dark curls, cheeks round and downy soft like the skin of a new peach. A thin trickle of blood oozing from the wound on his forehead, a rivulet of red dripping down the side of his tiny nose and off his chin. Small hands clutching the broken wood of his crib, reaching through the bars and frantically, repeatedly, grasping the empty air for his mother. Green eyes – _Lily's eyes –_ watching as Snape cradled her body in his arms, rocking her body back and forth. The baby boy sobbing in fear and confusion and desperately looking to him for comfort.

He wasn't the only one who had lost Lily that night.

Harry had lost her, too…

The fingers that were twisting and pulling unendingly at his scalp suddenly loosened. _Harry lost her, too…_

The constriction around his chest – like Nagini snapping and crushing his bones within her massive coils – abruptly eased. _Harry lost her, too…_

The thought brought him up short. He raised his red-rimmed, watery eyes from the protective barrier of his arms, feeling like he had finally let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding for almost sixteen years. He'd been under water that entire time, struggling, writhing, thrashing desperately to get air. It was only here, thinking about Harry, that he'd finally broke the surface. He gasped.

Snape had made a vow, a solemn oath to Dumbledore. He'd promised to do _anything_ the man asked, if only he would keep his precious Lily safe. It hadn't been enough. Lily had been ripped away. But that vow was no less sacred, the oath no less relevant. Now, instead of doing everything in his power to protect Lily, he was going to do everything in his power to protect her son. He was going to give the boy the home that he so desperately needed, the love that had been torn away from him before he'd even had a chance to know it.

 _You taught me what it was to love, Lily. Now I'm going to do the same for Harry._

Staggering painfully and ungraciously to his feet, Snape moved slowly to the wardrobe on the opposite wall. Opening the doors, he knew that although he couldn't see it, it was there, right where he'd put it sixteen years ago. It had been too painful to see, to even think about. So he'd hidden it away on the top corner underneath his mother's old quilts.

But he reached carefully for it now, not even feeling the deep ache in his side as his heartbeat rapidly increased. In his hands when he pulled them down was a simple wooden box with one single word carved lovingly into the top: _Lily._ Backing slowly into the large four-poster bed, he sunk down onto its surface as the back of his knees hit the edge.

" _Apertus_ ," Snape whispered, and the box popped gently open in his hands. His heart clenched again as he stared down at the items inside, pillowed on a soft interior. His breath hitched as the tears welled up once more. But this time as they traveled slowly down the side of his cheek, they felt strangely like a warm caress from long ago.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs for endless minutes, on the verge of following his professor. But in the end he removed his foot from the first stair and his hand from the banister, turning instead to the darkening sitting room. He built a fire the old fashioned muggle way, with a bundle of wood he'd seen tucked neatly by a bookshelf and a box of matches he found in a kitchen drawer.

Going through the process reminded him that he somehow had to rescue his trunk and all his magical belongings from the Dursley's. The thought should have struck fear into his heart; after all, the Dursley's were alone with all his magical belongings, most likely after being approached by Aurors or other Ministry officials after his encounter with Dudley and his gang. Harry could only imagine the rage Uncle Vernon must be feeling when he thought of his nephew, and he'd probably try to take it out on Harry's things since Harry himself wasn't there to suffer at his abuse.

But strangely, he wasn't afraid for his things. In fact, the only thing he wanted at that moment wasn't his wand, although did feel strangely naked without it. No… If he'd been able, he would have chosen his album of photographs that Hagrid had given him in his first year.

He sadly flipped through the book in his mind, seeing his parents waving, dancing, and happily grinning throughout the pages. However, as he examined the memorized photos in his mind's eye, he only had thoughts of his mother.

After that disastrous meeting in Dumbledore's office following Sirius's death, Dumbledore had finally been honest with him. After almost an entire year wishing that Dumbledore would open up and tell him what exactly was going on, Harry had sat there listening to the headmaster and wishing for nothing more than to cover his ears and scream so he would hear no more.

 _Why_ had Voldemort zeroed in on James and Lily Potter? He supposed the reasoning behind it didn't really matter in the end. But as he sat there with his arms wrapped protectively around his legs and his chin resting on folded knees, he hated Voldemort in that moment more than he ever had before. Not for marking _him – Harry –_ as the threat, but for taking his mother away from him before he'd ever had a chance to know her.

"Her favorite color was teal."

Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the murmured words, reaching for his wand out of habit. Snape stood in the doorway to the sitting room, gazing down at a box in his hands. He hadn't even heard the man come down the stairs, which was no small feat in his condition.

"And she loved the dawn. It was her favorite time of day."

Snape made his way to the sofa, gently sitting and still staring at the box as he continued, "She had an infectious laugh that could light up a room..."

Wide eyed, Harry got slowly to his feet and moved to sit beside his professor, as if pulled there by an invisible line. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw tears in the man's eyes.

"She was beautiful. So full of joy. So full of…" he stumbled, a hitch in his voice.

"Life," Harry whispered, thinking of the laugh he'd heard from Lilith that afternoon that had so affected him. "She was full of life." He sat down next to Snape, unconsciously leaning over the man's shoulder to see the box. His professor handed it over without hesitation.

Harry's fingers brushed the top of the carved lid. _Lily…_ It never even occur to him to ask why Snape – a known Death Eater renowned for his love of the Dark Arts – would have such a box in his possession.

The lid was shut but not completely closed, and Harry opened the box with his heart in his throat. Inside lay a random collection of items that might not have meant much if he hadn't known that they belonged to his mother.

Snape's eyes followed the movements of his hands as Harry reached into the box, pulling out a small turquoise hair bow with a mood ring slipped around the middle. Sliding the little muggle toy off the bow, Harry placed the ring on the end of his finger and was shocked to see that it wouldn't even go around the first joint, even as skinny as his hands were.

"She always did have delicate hands. It made her very good at slicing potion ingredients."

Harry slipped the ring carefully back around the bow, rubbing the satiny fabric between his thumb and forefinger. As he did so Snape said, "She wore pigtails sometimes as a girl."

After gently replacing the bow in the box, Harry lifted a small scrap of parchment and unfolded it. It looked as if it had been torn from the bottom of a sheet of notes, for he could see the edges of random words and letters directly beneath the tear. And below that, small, amazingly realistic renditions of all the house mascots were sketched – an eagle for Ravenclaw, it's talons extended and it's beak open in mid-cry; a badger for Hufflepuff, standing tall and proud on a cliff, the wind ruffling its fur. But when Harry looked down at the Gryffindor lioness and Slytherin snake, he was shocked to see that the animals had their heads bowed toward one another, their eyes closed and their foreheads touching in affection. Tender smiles graced the animal's faces. It was a mystery seeing the two house rivals like that, but the scene was rather… sweet.

"She was a gifted artist," Snape murmured, "Although she never seemed to believe me when I told her."

Harry didn't stop to contemplate as curiosity about the rest of the box's contents got the best of him. Folding the scrap and placing it gently back into the box, his fingers brushed a small glass vial, smaller even than those that Snape kept his finished potions in. He thought it looked rather like the tiny perfume bottle that he had once seen Mrs. Weasley use to dash perfume on her finger and dab along her neck while they were in line to meet Gilderoy Lockheart. Harry uncorked the small bottle and leaned down to smell.

"Jasmine… Her favorite scent."

The smell evoked a very obscure memory from the depths of Harry's mind. It could barely be called a memory, as the details were hazy and unfocused. It was more like a feeling than anything else. But Harry could swear that he remembered that smell. _Tangling strands of auburn hair around chubby fingers, eyelids heavy. The gentle movement and squeak of a rocking chair. The feminine tones of a soft voice singing faintly, full lips and the curve of a jaw the only part of her that he could see as he cuddled against her shoulder…_

His throat tightened dangerously, and he gently replaced the bottle.

The last item in the box sent a thrill of apprehension through Harry. Although it was wrapped in a bit of old flowery fabric, the size and shape allowed him to guess at what it was. Swallowing hard, he picked up the small bundle with the same care as if it were a new, fragile infant. Unraveling the fabric in his palm, Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as it revealed its hidden treasure.

A wand. Willow, a little over 10 inches long. _His mother's wand._ Harry closed his eyes, trying desperately not to replay the heartbreaking scene that he'd first recalled after the dementors had come after him in third year.

 _Not Harry… Please! NOT HARRY!_

Had she even carried the wand in her hand that moment as she stood before Voldemort, pleading for Harry's life?

Would it even have made a difference?

Harry didn't feel the wetness on his lashes when he opened his eyes once more.

"Why…?" Harry asked softly, not sure how to form the words. Not even sure what the words should be.

But Snape seemed to understand. "Your mother and I were… childhood friends. She lived not far from here, closer to the park you ended up at today." And then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a polaroid that Harry would have never believed to be the truth, before this night.

Snape held the photograph reverently, gently stroking Lily's cheek with his thumb as he continued, "I always hated to have my picture taken. It used to drive her quite mad. She'd sneak up on me at the most random moments, trying to get a picture of the two of us. But all she could ever capture was my shoulder or my back as I turned away from the camera." Snape sighed regretfully as he handed Harry the picture. "This was the only time I actually allowed her to take a proper photo of the two of us."

He'd known it already, but the truth hadn't really hit him until now.

His _mum_ had been _friends_ with _Snape._

Harry was starting to get the feeling that no matter how much the man tried to hide it from the world, no matter how dark and cruel and menacing he seemed on the surface, there was a lot more to his potions professor than Harry had ever given him credit for.

 _Mum knew that,_ he realized as he gazed down at the teenagers in the polaroid. The lips of a resigned teenage Snape twitched in an indulgent, albeit uncomfortable, smile. His mother on the other hand was smiling brightly, eyes glowing with obvious pleasure. Her shoulder moved like she had just thrown her arm around her unenthusiastic friend, and she leaned comfortably into the boy's embrace. She looked so… _content._

The notation below the two friends was just as telling. It was his mother's handwriting, which he realized he had never before laid eyes on. The writing was flowing and free, like the girl herself had been. _Hogwarts, 1976._ Only five short years before he had been born. _Year 5…_ They had been around Harry's age when this photo had been taken.

 _Love this one of you, Sev!_

 _Sev…_ So informal and intimate, a nickname that Harry imagined Snape would never allow anyone to call him. Unless…

He realized with a jolt that if things hadn't gone the way they had, if Snape had chosen this vibrant, beautiful girl instead of the Dark Arts, he may have been looking at who his parents could have been. The thought both comforted and terrified him.

"Harry… Look at me."

Green raised up slowly to meet black, and something within Harry broke at what he saw within their tortured depths. "You have your mother's eyes."


	12. Chapter 11

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 11**

 _ ****Author's Note: Wow. Just… wow. Thank you all so very much for the follows, favorites, and reviews! As I've said before, this story is mainly for me… Or… it started out that way. Now I feel like it is not just my story, but OUR story. I'm SO, SO happy that I can share it with you all!**_

 _ **If you're curious to see Snape's photo with Lily (mentioned in Chapter 10), remember to Google "Shabby Beach Nest – Right in Front of Me"; it's the first or second link that pops up. I definitely cannot take credit for the polaroid idea – it's something that I remember seeing long ago, and it's always stuck with me. But because I didn't save it back then, I decided to recreate the photo for inspiration and, well… because I'm a nerd.**_

 _ **And for those of you that think Snape's redemption and acceptance of Harry happened a little fast, don't worry, I wholeheartedly agree. There is a lifetime of guilt, torment, and shame to untangle; I know that doesn't just happen in a day. Without saying too much, just remember that the story hasn't all played itself out yet (wink wink). I REALLY wish I could say more, but just stick with me. I promise we'll get there!**_

 _ **This chapter was written while listening to a song by Winter Aid, called "The Wisp Sings".**_

They stayed up into the night, talking. At first the conversation revolved only around his mother, and Snape told Harry that he could ask him any questions he'd wanted to know. True to his word, he'd not shied away from anything that Harry asked, even though it had obviously been extremely difficult for him. Although uncomfortable, Snape was upfront and honest with him – something that Harry was extremely grateful for after being kept in the dark on so many issues for so long.

"How did you meet each other?"

"At the park. She was vaulting herself off the swings and flying higher and more gracefully than any normal muggle child possibly could. I knew she was a witch even before she did."

"You didn't care that she was muggle-born?"

"Your mother was… special. And I am a half-blood," he said simply.

They were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The fire crackled peacefully in the grate.

"You've always known I was hers," Harry said into the silence, not looking his professor in the eye. "Why did you hate me so much?" He asked the question quietly, trying not to feel nervous about what Snape's answer might be.

"I never hated you, Harry. But… you were your father's son."

"I still am," Harry said, confused.

"Not to me."

 _What did_ that _mean?_ Harry fell silent again for long minutes.

"Did you love my mother?"

 _Silence._ Harry looked at the man, whose faraway gaze was locked on the flames of the fire. He could only see his professor's face in profile, but there was something in the way his features seemed strained, as if the question physically pained him. It was all the answer Harry needed.

"Do you still love her?" Snape was silent for so long that Harry thought he would refuse to answer. Harry looked away.

"Always," Snape whispered.

It was such a simple word. Two syllables that normally lasted only as long as it took to forget them. But coming from Snape, it meant so much more. Harry swallowed, thinking again of what could have been had Snape not gone down such a dark path. It seemed as if his professor had been tormenting himself over his mother for years, and Harry had to admit that he felt sorry for him.

"Do you think you could ever love someone again?"

Snape's gaze flicked over to meet his own. "I'm starting to." It took Harry a moment to comprehend his meaning and when he did he blushed, looking away. But his professor's words secretly pleased him.

Harry had never had someone's love before, except Ron and Hermione. And Sirius, of course. But this was different… Whereas Sirius had always seen him as a replacement for his dead best friend – someone to go on merry adventures with, and who never took the world around him too seriously – Snape had made it perfectly clear since he'd taken him from the Dursley's just where Harry lay on his priority list. With another blush and a warm feeling starting to fill him up, Harry thought that he was somewhere near the top.

He was no longer alone. It was a terribly foreign, but extremely wonderful feeling.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry had disappeared into the kitchen, insisting on cooking so that Snape could stay off his feet. Snape listened to the banging and clattering of the pots and pans while Harry cooked in the muggle fashion. Things were quiet for a few minutes, simmering and warming in the pots, Snape assumed.

But then Harry suddenly reappeared, carefully carrying a few vials of potion. "I'm not sure if these are the right ones, but…" A crimson blush crept into his cheeks, and Snape took the vials from him, shocked. After dealing with these things on his own for so long, Snape was more than a little taken aback. _What an odd feeling to think that someone gives a damn if I'm in pain._

He glanced down at the vials now in his hands, and Harry quickly explained as he pointed them out, "Another dose of Skele-Grow, in case you reinjured your rib today; pain potion, obviously; and blood-replenishing potion, in case you've been bleeding into your liver…"

Snape was surprised. _So the boy is finally starting to use the brains he was born with._ It took him a moment before he remembered to say, "Thank you."

"I also cleaned up the mess I made in the lab last night. I'm sorry for that."

"Harry," Snape muttered, suddenly uncomfortable when confronted with his behavior earlier in the day. "About this morning… I'm… That was not your fault." Harry looked startled at his admission. "My behavior was unacceptable, and it was in no way caused by anything that you did." A silence stretched between them for long moments, but Snape continued softly, "I didn't tell Dumbledore."

It was clear by the drop in his shoulder and the blush that crept into his cheeks once again that Harry knew what he meant. He nervously fiddled with his hands before looking Snape in the eye.

"Thanks."

Clearing his throat, Harry excused himself to finish cooking, and, Snape suspected, to collect himself after Snape's contrition. They ate dinner in front of the fire, a filling dish made with chicken, mushrooms, and potatoes. It was actually rather good, very warm and filling after such a depleting day.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Snape asked conversationally, trying to distract the boy.

"Uh… It was always kind of my job at the Dursley's."

"To cook dinner?"

"And breakfast. And lunch." Harry said matter of factly. Snape paused, arching a brow when Harry met his gaze. The boy must have picked up on Snape's irritation because he continued in a rush, "But, you know, it wasn't the worst thing they could have done."

"So," Snape started slowly, "you cooked three meals a day basis your relatives – and yet you always came back to school looking like you'd dropped at least a stone in weight, sometimes more." The contempt for Harry's family was like acid dripping from his tone.

"Well…" Harry said, starting to get defensive. "I mean… They let me eat sometimes!"

" _Sometimes…"_ Snape repeated dangerously. The boy sounded as if he was trying to put Snape's mind at ease, but all it ended up doing was further inflaming Snape's anger at his ghastly muggle relatives.

The boy suddenly changed tactics. "Oh, and um, by the way," he said, trying to sound casual as he attempted to redirect the conversation. _As if I don't know what you're doing, Harry._ Snape understood wanting to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable topics. How many times had he done that with Dumbledore while at Hogwarts? With Lily when she had pried him for information regarding his father's treatment of him?

"I have to get my things from there," Harry continued, bringing Snape back to the present.

"You mean the _things_ your family took from you and locked away?" Snape stated, his anger steadily rising the longer he spoke. "The _things_ you should be carrying on your person at all times during a time of war, like your wand? The _things_ that could possibly save your life? Would those be the _things_ you are referring to?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah...That'd be them."

 _Those filthy muggles are due a call from me,_ Snape considered with severity. _I do believe I shall pay them a visit soon..._ "Do not concern yourself, Harry," he said in a dangerously low, silky tone. "I will procure your belongings."

Harry's gaze shot to his in alarm, looking like he wanted to argue. But before he could say anything Snape stated, "You need clothes."

Successfully redirecting the boy's attention, he continued, "The garments I've seen you wear outside of school in the past are only fit for the waste bin. Judging by their enormous size and their threadbare state, I'd hazard a guess that they were hand offs of your whale of a cousin." Harry nodded in embarrassment. "Well, as much as I enjoy your company and don't mind loaning you bits and pieces of my wardrobe, I do believe your friends would notice if you started dressing like the bat of Gryffindor tower."

"Yeah, they'd definitely notice," Harry said with a grin. "And..." He paused, trying to sound cheeky. "You like my company, sir?"

Snape could tell there was much more hidden behind the question, so he answered sincerely, "I do." Harry was unable to hide his pleasure at his answer. "But don't push your luck, Potter."

Snape banished the dishes back to the kitchen with a flick of his wand, turning to Harry and saying, "I've been meaning to ask you: how did you end up this afternoon with…" _Her name still felt odd on his tongue. "_ Lily and her daughter? When I finally found you, you looked to be sitting down with them for a picnic lunch…" He let the question linger, honest curiosity getting the best of him.

Harry thought for a moment. "It was really odd, actually. Jillian shot out in front of me while I was walking down the sidewalk and ran out into traffic. I thought she was going to get hit by a car… But then we were both suddenly on the other side of the street. I was holding onto her and she was just fine."

Snape froze. "You performed unintentional magic?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "That hasn't happened to me in a long time."

"Harry… teenagers are not supposed to be _able_ to perform unintentional magic."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry said, his voice suddenly sounding anxious. "It was an accident – it just _happened._ Do you think I'm going to get in trouble with the Ministry? I already have a strike on my record because of Dobby!"

Snape just started at him for a long moment. The boy stared back, eyes wide and nervous, expecting an answer. _After all those failed lessons… Could it possibly be…?_

Snape tried to rise to his feet from where his body had sunken into the old sofa, but the movement was still a bit painful. Harry was suddenly there at his elbow. "Lily said you had to take it easy," he admonished, helping to lift him. Snape smiled at the accusation on his behalf as the boy enforced Lily's ridiculous rules.

But Snape gave it no more thought as he suddenly said, "Get your mother's box." He strode over to the fire, Harry following curiously.

Holding out his hand, Harry passed him the wooden box with an inquisitive look. "Stand over there," Snape instructed as he motioned to the far corner of the room. Harry moved, albeit slowly, confusion clear on his face now.

Snape's looked down at the box in his hands. His fingers lovingly caressed the lid for a long moment. Without warning he moved to toss the box into the flames.

" _NO!"_ Harry shouted in horror, lunging to stop him but not quickly enough since he was so far from Snape.

However, as Harry straightened, the boy had an utterly perplexed, shocked look on his face. Looking down at his hands, it was easy to see why: he now clutched his mother's box. He leaned around and looked into the fire, his eyes darting back and forth between it and the wooden container.

"Wait…? How did…? _What the hell just happened?"_

"Language, Potter," Snape admonished. But then he continued, "There was nothing unintentional about the magic you just preformed. You didn't want your mother's possessions to be burned in the flames, just like you didn't want Jillian to get hit by a car. You _intentionally_ projected your protective instincts, thereby shielding the objects of those reactions."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It _means,_ Mr. Potter,that as much as you fought against me last year during all your lessons, you are more than likely a very strong Occlumens."

Bewildered, Harry stared at him for a long moment. "What?"

"Harry, what do you think Occlumency _is_ , if not a protection of your mind against Legilimency?" The boy looked completely baffled.

Snape sighed in exasperation. "Close your eyes." He waited for Harry to do so. "Reflect on what you experienced just now, and earlier at the park. Slow it down, moment by moment. Really _consider_ Jillian and your mother's box, the terror you felt at the thought of their impending ruin." Harry's brows furrowed, his eyes still closed. It took a moment before he slowly nodded. "Now replace them with _your mind_ in those scenarios. That same feeling of wanting to _protect –_ at all costs – is what you are trying to achieve. Focus it upon yourself, instead of projecting it outside your body."

Harry's eyes opened, looking shaken. "I... I think I understand," he murmured in astonishment.

"Good," Snape muttered, then without pause, " _Legilimens_."

Surprisingly, he felt a block at the entrance of Harry's thoughts. At first it was nothing but a thick, cloying mist which only managed to slow Snape's advance. But it quickly became something more substantial, solidifying into a wall that no matter how forcefully Snape mentally shoved against, he could not penetrate.

He smiled to himself as his mind retreated. He was genuinely proud of the boy. "What were you thinking?" he asked as he felt his conscious settle back into place.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry responded seriously. After a moment his mouth spread into a lighthearted smile, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

Snape couldn't help the twitch of his own lips at the boy's teasing tone. "No actually, I don't think I would."

. . . . .

When Harry finally stumbled off to bed a few hours later, he looked drained and exhausted, but happy. They'd put in some hard work practicing Occlumency; sometimes Snape had been able to slip through, but most of the time Harry's mental barriers were solid.

At the beginning of their lesson Harry had tormented him with visions of the boggart Snape dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothing, finding the scowl on Snape's face when he broke through rather hilarious. But as the night wore on and Harry became more mentally exhausted, Snape broke through more and more, and near the end Harry's thoughts had been overwhelmed with thoughts of his mother. Snape noted with interest that although all of these memories were of the wizard pictures containing both his parents, his mother was vivid, beautiful, and detailed, while the elder Potter had been blurry and out of focus.

After seeing the photo of himself with Lily in the boy's mind, both he and his mother in perfect detail, he'd called it a night.

"That's enough," Snape said softly. "You've done well, Harry. Now go get some rest." Harry had nodded, not even bothering to argue.

"I learned a lot tonight. Thank you, sir."

"I think it's time you called me Severus," Snape replied calmly. After all they'd been through together over the past few days, it seemed appropriate.

Harry seemed surprised, but he'd repeated quietly, "Ok. Severus…"

Snape watched him stumble up the stairs, calling out a soft goodnight before he turned back into the sitting room. He thought about getting a vial of Dreamless Sleep, but then reconsidered. With the emotional roller coaster of a day they'd had, Snape doubted that Harry would be suffering from any nightmares – he'd probably fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and stay dead to the world until morning.

Besides, he still had to figure out what had caused such a volatile reaction the first time the boy had taken it.

Snape stood in the doorway to the sitting room, his arms crossed over his chest, and his thoughts turned predictably toward the boy's despicable relatives. He relished the idea of paying them a visit, and considering that Harry's belongings were still in their home, it had better be soon. But after the circumstances that he'd found Harry in the last time Snape had visited that infernal place, there was _no way_ that he was bringing the boy anywhere near them.

Walking quickly to the fireplace, he snatched up a small handful of floo powder and threw it down, announcing clearly, "Remus Lupin's quarters!" Carefully crouching before the fire (which he noticed with relief that he was able to do with only a few stabs of pain), he stuck his head in the green flames and waited for the spinning to stop.

When it did, he saw Lupin in an even shabbier armchair than the one in Snape's sitting room, his legs crossed and a book in his lap. The moment he saw Snape, Lupin placed the book upside down on the side table and rose.

"Severus!" the man said in surprise. "It's late – is everything alright? Has the Order-?"

"Calm down, wolf," Snape growled. "Everything is fine."

"Oh. Well… What can I do for you? Would you like to come through?"

Not wanting to leave Harry alone, Snape responded, "Why don't you come here?" And with that he pulled back, waiting again for the spinning to stop. He was trying without much success to get to his feet when the floo flared and Lupin stepped through.

" _Severus!"_ The man said in surprise, seeing him falter in pain. "Here, let me help you-" Snape was irritated with Lupin's supportive gesture and shook the other man's hands off the moment he was back on his feet, dusting himself off instead of meeting Lupin's worried gaze.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked quietly.

" _Fine,"_ Snapped Snape, but then took a breath to calm himself. "I need a favor, Lupin." The words were like ash in his mouth; he hated asking _anyone_ for _anything,_ especially someone with whom he had so much history.

The other man paused for a second, most likely in shock that Snape would ask _him,_ of all people. "Of course, Severus. What can I do?"

 _Where to start…?_ "Harry needs clothes-"

Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Harry… As in Harry _Potter?"_

" _Yes,_ wolf, Harry Potter. He's currently upstairs sleeping, but—"

"Harry is _here?"_

Snape sighed in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. _This wasn't going well._ "Due to… unforeseen circumstances, Harry will be staying with me for the remainder of the summer," he explained, his patience running thin.

Lupin looked as if Snape had just told him that he wanted to bring the giant squid home as a house pet. "Do you think that is for the best? It's not exactly a secret how much you despise Harry…"

A twinge of guilt flickered within Snape, but he pushed it aside. "We don't exactly have a choice. Are you going to help me or not?" he snapped, wanting to get to the point and get this conversation over with.

"Oh, well… Yes. Of course. What do you need from me?"

"I need you to take Potter shopping for clothes in London tomorrow. Take him wherever he wants to go." Lupin was still looking at him as if he'd suddenly broken out singing muggle show tunes. The man's perplexed look irritated him to no end. "Go sightseeing, if you must. But just keep him away. I have a situation that needs… attention… that Harry cannot be a part of."

After a long moment Lupin finally answered, "Of course, Severus. I'll be happy to help."

The ash was back on Snape's tongue. "Thank you." Walking back to the fireplace, Snape reached for a bag of golden Galleons that he kept discreetly behind a stack of books. He dropped it heavily into Lupin's hands and said, "I assume you can handle converting this into muggle money, if need be?"

"Yes," Lupin replied, looking utterly flummoxed by the entire situation.

"Tomorrow at nine o'clock, then," Snape said dismissively, letting the other man know that he was done with the conversation.

Lupin looked as if he wanted to say something, but gently shook his head as he thought better of it. "See you in the morning, Severus." He stepped into the floo and was gone.

 _Good, that was taken care of._ His morning was clear to drop in on Harry's filthy muggle family. He was greatly looking forward to it.

Snape carefully stretched his aching body. He supposed he'd better get some rest as well, if he didn't want to be stumbling around like a pathetic idiot around the muggles. He made his way up the stairs, glad to see that the potions were taking effect and that the movements were not nearly as painful as they had been.

But as he passed the door to his old bedroom, he stopped cold.

A distressed whimpering, so soft that he almost hadn't heard it, was coming from inside the dark room. Snape's breath hitched in his throat as he pushed the door open.

"Harry?" he called softly. When the boy didn't answer, he pulled out his wand and murmured a low, _"Lumos."_

The boy was curled onto his side, his eyes closed in sleep as he clutched a pillow to his chest. Tears were streaming beneath his closed lids, and as Snape stood there watching he emitted another soft cry. Snape immediately went to his side, tossing his wand on the desk next to the table and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Harry…" he murmured, gently grasping the boy's shoulder. But Harry instantly flinched away from his touch.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," he choked quietly. "Please, don't! Don't put me in there… I'll be quiet! I'm sorry!"

 _"Harry."_ Snape insisted, lifting the boy's shoulders until he could fold him into his embrace. "Harry, it's me. It's ok. You're dreaming. It's ok," he repeated, stroking the back of Harry's head.

The boy continued sniffling, and he could feel the tears soaking through the shoulder of his shirt. Harry shuddered, and Snape's arms tightened around him. He didn't realize Harry was awake until the boy's arms wrapped about his waist, clinging desperately as he continued to cry. Snape rested his cheek on the back of Harry's head, rocking him gently.

"I saw you with her," Harry said softly into his shoulder, his voice hoarse and thick through the tears. "I saw you with my mum, screaming as you held her body."

Snape stiffened. _Oh God…_

"I'm sorry," Snape choked, tears of his own coming of their own accord. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Harry."

The two continued to cling to each other… desperate, helpless, and agonizing in their grief as they wept for a lost love, a lost mother. But there was a fragile comfort in each other's presence, and the fact that they were no longer alone.


	13. Chapter 12

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 12**

 ****Author's Note: Language and adult content ahead. This chapter was both exhilarating and horrifying for me to write. I've been oddly looking forward to it with some serious trepidation. I just want to reach through the pages and wrap my arms around Snape… But I have a feeling he would hex me into oblivion if I ever tried. Maybe someone else will have better luck.**

 **Snape's time at the Dursley's was written while listening to Fink's "Warm Shadow". The rest was "Lily's Theme".**

Harry was at the table, dressed once again in borrowed clothes and eating a quick plate of eggs and bacon. Snape sat in his usual spot reading the Daily Prophet.

Suddenly Harry heard the floo come to life and asked, "Are we expecting someone?" But before he got an answer, a face he recognized walked into the kitchen.

"Remus!" he called happily, standing up to greet his old professor. The man hugged him warmly, and Harry had to admit that it was nice to see him. He looked exhausted but happy, which was strange considering that the full moon was less than a week away.

"Hi, Harry! Are you ready to go?"

"Go?" Harry responded in confusion, looking from him to Snape. "Go where?"

Snape continued reading the paper as he replied, "I did mention that you needed clothes."

Harry was shocked at Snape's thoughtfulness. Sure, he'd _said_ as much, but Harry didn't actually think he'd go through with it. No one had ever _provided_ for him before, not really. Now he was here, being fed three square meals a day, with a proper bedroom, blankets – he even had _pajamas._ And now he was about to go shopping for proper clothing for the first time in his life. Looking at Snape, the warm feeling inside him grew and he smiled at the man, although he didn't see it since he was still reading the paper.

"What are you doing this morning, sir?" He tacked that last bit on, not sure how Snape would react if he called him by his first name in front of Remus.

"Errands," Snape replied blandly. "You'll have a much better time with Lupin."

There was a slight pause in the room, and Remus fidgeted with something in his pocket. "Well…" Remus said slowly, and Harry noticed that his eyebrows were creased ever so slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't. "I guess we'll be off, then."

"Have him back by dinner," Snape drawled. His eyes flicked up to Harry he murmured, "Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said meaningfully. Snape just waved him away.

But as they rounded the corner into the sitting room, Snape called out, "Lupin!"

The man popped his head back into the kitchen, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Thanks."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

The moment he heard the floo once more, Snape was on his feet. _Let's get this done_. He pulled the same three potions from last night out of his pocket, which he'd gathered from the lab before calling the boy down to breakfast. _Just to be safe…_ And he quickly tossed them back, his face puckering after the Skele-Grow hit his tongue. It still tasted like piss.

Casting a disillusionment charm on himself, Snape apparated directly into the muggle's entranceway. The television was up so loud that they didn't hear the resultant _crack!_ as he appeared. Walking slowly – invisibly – into the sitting room, he took a moment to observe the two sordid parents of the Dursley family. He felt rather like a snake stalking two insignificant rats who were unaware of their impending doom.

The television show – a horrendous muggle comedy of some sort – emitted a raucous track of laughter and applause, then cut to commercials.

"Petunia, get me a beer," the walrus ordered from an armchair directly in front of the television, and his wife jumped to her feet and hurried to comply. She unknowingly walked within inches of Snape on her way to the kitchen. Vernon Dursley was still in his white tank top and boxers from the night before, and Snape could clearly smell the old sweat and alcohol emanating off the repulsive muggle. He was revolted as the man blatantly adjusted himself with an obvious smirk during a commercial with some lingerie-clad women strutting across the screen wearing feathered wings.

Petunia walked back into the room carrying not only a beer, but what Snape realized was a shot glass full of Scotch, as he clearly caught a whiff of the amber liquid when the woman walked past.

"Here you go, Darling," she murmured, running her hand suggestively down his chest and into his lap.

 _I've seen enough,_ thought Snape in disgust.

But as he was about to reveal himself, Dursley reached over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, banging the package on his knee to pop a stick out of the top of the cardboard container. Snape froze, unable to take his eyes off the vile man as he rammed the cigarette between his lips and leaned forward with his hands cupped around the end, lighting it. He put the neon-colored plastic lighter to the side, taking a long draw from the end of the cigarette and then blowing the smoke over his shoulder.

" _Severus, being me my smokes." The boy watched in dread as his father banged the package on his knee. He took a long draw from the end of the cigarette before blowing the smoke over his shoulder and leering down at his son._

" _Now be a good boy and come sit with Daddy. It's time for your lessons..."_

Snape swayed from the sudden flashback, feeling as if he'd been physically struck. He placed his palm firmly against the wall as the ground shifted beneath his feet, trying desperately to calm his racing pulse.

 _He's dead. He can't hurt me anymore. He's DEAD!_

But the words didn't seem to penetrate as a cold sweat broke out over Snape's entire body. The heavy smoke seeping out of the filthy muggle's mouth surround him, suffocating him, making him almost physically ill in the memories it evoked of his father.

Snape couldn't take it a second longer. He hissed a swift, _"Incarcerous,"_ at the repugnant man before him as he removed the disillusionment spell. Petunia jumped screaming from the couch as ropes shot from the end of Snape's wand, binding the giant slug to the armchair in which he sat.

" _What the fuck?!"_ The walrus cried out with the cigarette still dangling between his lips. Snape held his wand out threateningly, his eyes never leaving the man as he walked around to face him. Their gaze held for long moments as Snape stood looking down at him.

"YOU!" Petunia shrieked as she recognized Snape. His gaze turned slowly to the sister of the only woman – the only _person_ – he'd ever loved. She stared back at him with abhorrence. She knew exactly who he was, and after all this time, she still despised him.

 _This_ he understood. This he could handle. This was how the rest of the world had viewed him since he was eleven-years-old.

He hated Petunia Evans, loathed the hideous horse face that had made Lily cry on countless occasions because of her nasty, jealous taunts. But at that particular moment, Snape was grateful to her, for her hatred helped a peculiar calm settle over him, and allowed him to finish what he'd come here to do.

"Get out of my house!" The woman screeched.

"Not until I've gotten what I came for," Snape said silkily. He turned back to the walrus, making a dangerous sound low in his throat. "Smoking is such a _vile_ habit, Mr. Dursley. Why don't you put that cigarette out so I don't have to breathe in your filth."

The ropes unwound from around the man's arms, swaying and moving like living snakes to slither themselves threateningly around his neck. Then, as if his hand was suddenly being controlled by someone other than himself, Dursley slowly removed the cigarette from his mouth.

"No, no… Please!" the man cried. But his fingers continued moving of their own accord, turning the cigarette over and slowly bringing it closer to his own skin. The man whimpered before him, begging pathetically. But Snape thought only of Harry as the slug finally touched the glowing tip into the back of his other hand, grinding it down forcefully. Dursley howled in pain as his fingers held the cigarette in place, burning through layers of flesh.

His appendages suddenly became his own once more, and he clasped his hand over the wound, screaming obscenities at Snape even though he had a rope around his throat. "You son of a bitch! You offensive, mutant freak! You and that _boy -_ I'll _kill you both-!"_

"Hold your tongue," Snape hissed, and Vernon suddenly looked like a silent, gaping fish. His eyes bulged in rage as he looked up at Snape, but with a flick of his wand the ropes tightened ever so slightly around his throat, and although still able to draw breath, his eyes began bulging for a different reason.

"Where's little Dusrley Jr.?" He asked darkly. "Maybe we can get him in on the fun, too." Petunia visibly blanched, and was shaking in hatred and fear for her family.

"Not here. He's out with friends."

"That's too bad," Snape murmured. "I had something rather important I wanted to discuss with him."

"What do you want from us?" Petunia asked, the distress clear in her trembling voice.

"I'm here for Harry's things," Snape replied after a moment. "Unless… you have done something with them?" He almost hoped they had. "Then I shall have no choice but to further your education in just what we _freaks_ are capable of," Snape purred threateningly.

"No, we have them!" The woman cried in desperation. "We'll give them to you! Take them back to that little creep. Make sure he knows _never_ to show his face here again, or we won't be responsible for what happens to him." At Snape's dark look, she shrank back.

"Show me." Snape demanded, and Petunia nodded jerkily in agreement. Snape glared down at the walrus for a long moment. "Don't go anywhere, Dursley," he said, and more ropes appeared tying his wrists and ankles to the chair.

The woman glanced fearfully at her husband as she led Snape out of the room. But instead of stopping at the cupboard under the stairs as Snape was expecting, she led him out to the back garden. There was Harry's trunk, undamaged and pristine while laying amongst a pile of splintered wood and bits of metal. It took Snape a moment to realize that the debris had, at some point fairly recently, been an Irish hurling stick and an axe.

"There is something _unnatural_ about that trunk. Vernon tried to destroy it after those _people_ came. But it wouldn't break no matter how many times he hit it. That… that little _FREAK_ put my Duddy in the hospital! And not even a _proper hospital –_ a hospital for YOUR MUTANT KIND! And now Dudders doesn't even remember that night! He can't even tell us what happened!" She was screeching by the time she finished her tirade. "Take the damn thing! Get it out of here! We never want to see it again! We never want to see _ANY OF YOU_ again!"

She yelped in indignation as Snape murmured a quick, _"Reducio,"_ and the trunk shrank to the size of a matchbox. Placing it into his robe pocket, he spun on his heel and strode back into the sitting room.

Snape stood with his wand raised before the silent, raging man in the armchair. With a twist of his wrist, he removed the ropes as well as the silencing spell. Petunia dropped to her bony knees beside him, weeping.

"Vernon, oh Vernon!"

Immediately the man jumped out of the chair and lunged at Snape, yelling above his wife's screeches, "You and that boy are _DEAD!_ Do you hear me?! You miserable excuse for a fucking man, I'll—"

But with another flick of the wand, the lumbering slug was slammed up against the wall, his hands scrabbling around an unseen force at his throat. His wife desperately clung to his beefy arm, screaming and vainly wrenching at it to try and get him down.

" _Silence!"_ Snape hissed, and this time it didn't take a spell to quiet the pair. He advanced on them with his wand raised, murmuring ominously, "I could kill you with a simple flick of my wrist and go on about my day with a clear conscious. I'd sleep better that night than you ever have in your entire miserable lives." He paused, watching with relish as their eyes grew wide with fear. Digging his wand into the soft, flabby underside of Vernon's neck, he made a motion that lifted the man until he was dangling off the floor, the very tips of his toes scrabbling to find purchase. Snape raised his voice above the man's choking gasps and continued, "You are _done_ threatening my—threatening Harry. He is no longer your concern. You will never see each other again." And when he removed his wand, the walrus crumpled to the floor in a giant, heavy heap.

Before the two had so much as a taken a breath, he spun on the spot and was gone.

. . . . .

With a small _crack!_ Snape appeared in an alley that he didn't recognize, but it took him a moment to realize that fact. He paced the small space, feeling like the buildings were moving, closing in on him, about to crush him at any moment.

 _He's dead, God dammit. Stop this!_

But the cloying stench of cigarette smoke clung to him. He could smell it on his very clothes, nauseating him with its overpowering scent. Snape trembled as he frantically scrambled out of the heavy black robes covering his white button down, hastily ripping them off and dropping them to the grimy ground beneath his feet. He paced again, running a hand through his hair and breathing deep to try and get the trembling under control.

 _"You're a growing boy, Severus. You need someone to show you what to do."_

He could feel the man's hands on him still, caressing him, stroking his body. The bile rose at the back of his throat, making him retch right there in that filthy alley. He pushed one of his palms against the damp bricks for support as the heaves took over, unable to stand up straight.

Quaking violently, Snape slowly pulled his wand from inside his pocket and, yanking his sleeve up to his elbow, made a slashing motion above his forearm. The sting of the cutting curse slashed through his flesh. With effort he brought his head up, watching in detachment as the blood gushed warmly from the deep wound, oozing down the crease of his elbow and dripping with soft patters onto the alley floor.

Finally able to get his breathing under control, his hand still trembled slightly as Snape healed the wound. Disconnected, as if looking at another's arm, he examined the now purple welted scar. He knew that by injuring himself he could never be rid of the ugly mark, and it would stay with him forever. But as the trembling finally left him he felt numb, emotionless, and couldn't bring himself to care.

Finally walking out of the dim alley and into the bright sunlight, Snape looked across the busy road and immediately realized where he'd landed. He'd been expecting the stoop in Spinner's End – why the hell had he come here, instead? He turned to walk back into the alley and apparate home.

"Severus?"

Turning, the site of her still made his heart skip, even though his mind was well aware that she was not the woman he wanted her to be. _Lily…_ They looked at each other for a long moment, neither speaking as they quietly observed the other.

"Where's Harry?" she asked suddenly.

"With a friend."

"So is Jilly," she replied, pausing awkwardly. "Well, listen, I was just on my way—"

"Then I shall not keep you," Snape replied, turning toward the alley again.

"Wait!" Lily cried, stopping him. "Good Lord, Severus," she said with a laugh. "Let me finish. I was just on my way to the Farmer's Market. Would you like to join me? I mean, since we're both childless and all?"

 _No._

"Yes."

 _Wait… What?_

"Great!" she said with a genuine smile, then paused. "You seem..." she gave him a curious look as she scrutinized him, "better. A lot better, actually. You'll have to tell me how you did that."

Snape just stared at her. _That won't be happening._

"Well, the market is only a block over. Let's walk, shall we?"


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

 _ ****Author's Note: Seriously you guys, reading your thoughts and reviews has become one of my favorite past times this past week (other than writing this story, of course.) Thank you to everyone that has taken the time… I always come away with a smile or a laugh after reading them. Like the woman who thought I must be around Harry's age (that gave me a good laugh – I'm in my 30's with a hubby and two kids); or the ones who wrote that they had to get to work but were having a hard time tearing themselves away (WHAT A COMPLIMENT!)**_

 _ **My favorites though are just hearing how much everyone is enjoying the characters themselves. Like I said in the beginning, I have a strange fascination with what makes people tick. I will do my best to continue living up to your expectations for all of our beloved literary friends!**_

 _ **And now, a bit of a lighter chapter after the horrific realizations of last chapter…**_

Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron, Remus pulled a heavy bag of gold galleons from his pocket, asking Harry where he wanted to go first. Harry flushed when he saw the bag, that warm feeling coming back again as he realized Snape had made sure that they would have enough to go wherever and do whatever he wanted. It was more than anyone in his life had ever done for him.

Harry was curious to explore muggle London, as he'd never had the opportunity to do so before. They decided to exchange some of the gold at Gringotts for the thin paper money that Harry remembered from his days with the Dursleys. Harry had also made sure to pull some of his own money out of his vault, in case he saw something that he _wanted_ but didn't necessarily _need._

After walking down Charring Cross Road for a while, exploring the many second-hand and specialty shops, they decided it was probably time to start shopping. Remus pointed out a casual, straightforward store that neither of them had ever heard of before, a place called the Gap. Harry thought looked simple enough for them to tackle. But the inside of the store proved harder to navigate than it had from the outside. He looked to Remus for help, who turned out to be almost as clueless as Harry since he didn't exactly have the best wardrobe, either.

It was at that point when a nicely-dressed girl only a few years older than Harry approached them, a nametag reading "April" pinned to her sweater. "You look a little lost," she said kindly to the both of them. "Can I be of any assistance?"

Two hours later they walked out with ten shirts (some long-sleeved, some short); three pairs of pants (khaki, denim, and trousers); two pairs of shorts (khaki and army green); four vests for when the weather turned a little colder; some pullovers in case he needed them; twelve pairs of thick socks; three packages of boxers ( _finally_ he had underwear that fit!); two pairs of sneakers; and a thick jacket that would keep him warm under his cloak on those snowy Christmas trips to Hogsmeade.

Harry had asked April if he could wear one of the outfits out of the store, to which the girl had smiled and handed him the khaki shorts and a simple gray t-shirt. Harry had also snuck a pair of the perfectly-sized boxers into the changing room, unable to resist. He'd made sure that the borrowed garb got into one of the bags so he could give it back to Snape later.

"How is it possible for one person to need so much?" Harry asked as he hefted a few bags over his shoulder a short time later, feeling like jolly old St. Nick. "I mean, I know I needed, well, _everything._ But this is ridiculous!"

"You're definitely set for all of your out of class," said Remus breathlessly as he helped carry the other bags. "Now to get back to Diagon Ally so we can get you all stocked up on school robes."

Harry groaned out loud. "Why do girls like doing this so much? It's exhausting!"

Remus smiled indulgently. "Would you like to stop for something to eat before we head back?" he asked, ducking into an alley and shrinking the bags so that they were no bigger than a handful of marbles, then slipping him into his pocket.

"Sure! Where should we go?"

Remus pulled the muggle money out of his pocket and flipped through it, counting. "We have almost £50 left – that's enough for just about anything around here, I would think."

Harry's eyes scanned both sides of the street, settling on a large red brick building about a block down by the underground station. He could just make out a small restaurant on the bottom floor next to the street called "Wok to Walk". Although it was obviously a diminutive place, Harry decided that it must be good since there was a queue outside.

"How about there?" he asked Remus, pointing.

"Asian noodles. The meal of kings," he laughed. "Good choice, Harry."

Seeing as how there wasn't many places to sit inside the tiny restaurant, they decided to take their cartons of noodles, meat, and veggies to go, and simply meandered down the street enjoying catching up with each other.

"You seem _happy,_ Remus," Harry noted with a smile, using a pair of chopsticks to clumsily shove noodles into his mouth.

The man laughed at Harry before answering quietly, "I am. Tonks and I..."

Harry raised his eyebrows as he beamed at his old professor. "You and Tonks, huh? Yeah… I can see that. You guys are good together."

"Well, it's still new. We've only been out a couple of times. But she makes me laugh…" He looked off into the distance with a small smile, before looking back at Harry and asking, "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

Remus looked down at him, his eyebrows raised meaningfully. _"Snape…"_

Harry laughed outright. "Yeah, I know. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yes. _Very._ And yet…" He paused, considering, "here we are, making sure that we buy you a wardrobe befitting of _The Chosen One,_ " he rustled Harry's hair in teasing manner. But he sobered rather quickly. "All because Snape wanted to make sure you were properly taken care of…"

Harry looked at him and smiled almost shyly, not quite sure what to say.

"Are you happy there, Harry?"

Harry nodded and quietly replied, "Yeah. I am."

"Do you mind telling me how it happened?" Remus pressed, and Harry couldn't blame him. If the roles were reversed and Ron or Hermione had unexpectedly ended up in his position, he'd be asking the same questions.

"I… uh… had a fight with my relatives. Snape took me away before it could get really bad." Remus nodded in understanding. He knew how bad Harry's relatives could be from when he was still his professor.

Harry suddenly felt extremely grateful for the calm, patient, tolerant man beside him. He knew that when the time came, others might not be so accepting when they heard of Harry's arrangements.

"I'm always here if you need me, Harry. Remember that."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape felt about as comfortable as a centaur playing Quidditch as he walked slowly next to Lily. What exactly was he doing here? And headed to a Farmer's Market,no less… It was ridiculous.

 _Hell has really and truly frozen over,_ he thought bitterly.

"So… How are you today?" Lily suddenly asked.

"Fine," he growled.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes. That's the thing, isn't it?" She paused meaningfully, expecting an explanation from him.

"If there's something you want to know, just ask," he said in irritation.

"Fine," she said, turning to face him. "How did you get better so quickly?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Snape replied in a cold tone.

"Yes you do. Don't play dumb with me, I'm not an idiot," she said irritably. He just stared at her, so she continued, "You were near collapse when I met you yesterday. Normally an injury that substantial takes weeks of rest before a person shows any signs of improvement. And yet…" she held a hand out, motioning up and down his body, "Here you are."

"I've always been a remarkably fast healer."

She stood there staring at him for a long, silent moment before a somewhat annoyed, amused-looking smile spread across her lips. The wind picked up her hair, and she impatiently brushed it back.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Snape just cocked a brow.

As they started walking again, and Snape heard her murmur, "Stubborn mule…" He couldn't help chuckling under his breath.

Arriving at their destination, Snape glared at the swarming crowd as he crossed his arms protectively across his chest. _There goes that poor centaur, falling off his broom from one-hundred feet up after being bashed in the skull with a bludger._

He backed up a pace. "I'm going to go."

But Lily's head snapped up from where she had been gazing down at some ripe strawberries and raspberries.

"What? Oh _no_ , you don't!" Snatching the fabric of his shirt, she dragged him back to the fruit, muttering, "You're not going to make _my_ life easy, then I'm not giving _you_ an easy time of it, either. Fergus!" she called out to the stallholder, "May we try your strawberries? They look divine."

"Ah, Lily m'dear!" The elder man had a ruddy face that obviously saw lots of sun. It was crisscrossed with lines and wrinkles, which grew deeper as he smiled at the lady. "O' course, help yerselves. How have you been, dah-lin?"

Picking up a shiny red strawberry, she smiled at the man at she responded, "Very well, thanks! Oh, and thank you for that recommendation on those rhubarbs last week – you were right, they made an excellent pie. I would have brought you a slice, but Jilly ate it all."

The man laughed. "And where is little Jilly this mornin'?"

"She slept over at a friend's house," she said, biting into the juicy berry and giving a little moan of delight. "Oh, these are _good."_

"And who's your date then, lass?" The man's eyes landed on Snape, and Snape met his gaze with a glowering glare. _This is NOT a date, you old muggle fool!_ The man only chuckled at his dark look. "Ye got yerself a spitfire there, Lily." He wiped his earthy hands on his apron, leaning over the fruit to extend his hand. "Fergus, Fergus MacDonald."

It took Snape perhaps a little longer than was polite before he shook the other man's hand. "Ah, nice firm handshake," Fergus said with a smile. "That's important. Says a lot about a man. Mr…?"

" _Professor._ Snape."

"Och, a professor, no less! Professor Snape, a pleasure." He leaned around Snape and addressed Lily, "I think ye've got yerself a keeper here, lass." And he winked.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lily replied with a smile as she glanced sideways at Snape's mortified expression. She completed the humiliation by shoving a strawberry into his hand. He almost threw it at her, but held himself back. Just barely.

He hated to admit it, but the strawberry was rather good.

It went like that at almost every stall. _Did the infernal woman insist on knowing everyone within a five mile radius?_ By the time they were done he knew more about these damnable muggles than he ever wanted to. And he decided that the next person who called this little outing between them a _date_ was going to be hexed into next century.

Lily had a bag slung over her arm that was filled with fruits and vegetables every color of the rainbow, and she tasted things from almost every stall. She intrinsically seemed to know what to do with each item, and spoke freely about what she was planning to cook with what ingredients.

He appreciated the fact that she didn't seem to expect him to say much.

As Snape watched her bring a large heirloom tomato to her nose, her eyes closing in appreciation and then narrowing in thought, he couldn't help but wonder how she would do at potions. After all, brewing potions wasn't much different than following a recipe….

Together as they turned down the next aisle, Lily made a beeline for the second stall on the left. "Hi Bonnie!" She called. "Any avocados this week?"

"I'm sorry, Lily. I wasn't able to get my hands on any," the woman said regretfully.

"That's alright, I'll try back next week," Lily responded with a disappointed shrug.

But as she turned around, the other woman called out, "Oh… Wait! Lily, come back! I found some!" Snape noticed that the older woman looked extremely confused, and heard her murmur to herself, "Where did these _come_ from…?"

"Oh, Bonnie… _Bless you!"_ Lily said with excitement, not noticing the other woman's bewilderment. A prickle ran up Snape's spine as he stood there. _Odd…_ The other woman seemed very certain that she'd not had any of the fruit, and her brows were still knitted together in confusion.

But Snape's thoughts were interrupted as Lily turned to him excitedly and asked, "Have you ever had an avocado?"

Snape shook his head, gazing down into the crate at the small, dark green ovals covered in shiny, hard, bumpy skin. Lily reached gleefully inside, saying, "You want to feel for ones that have a little give when you squeeze them."

Picking one up, he handing it to her with his eyebrows raised in question.

"No," she answered, "too soft."

He placed it gently back in the crate, and they searched side by side for a few moments, their arms brushing against one another.

"How about this one?" he asked, holding it out to her.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed. Turning to the stall owner she asked, "Do you mind cutting that for me, Bonnie? And do you happen to have a spoon? I'm going to eat it now." She continued searching through the crate, gathering five more before paying. Bonnie the stall owner seemed to shake herself, then smiled at Snape as she handed him a plate with the two halves of the avocado, a plastic spoon beside them.

"Thanks, Bonnie. I'll definitely be back next week, sniffing around for more of these babies," Lily laughed, holding up her bag filled to the brim with avocados. The other woman waved them goodbye, but the perplexed look had still not left her face.

Lily ambled over to a café table along the outskirts of the market, sitting down with a happy sigh. "These are my absolute favorite. Would you like some?"

"No. But I am curious about something."

She took a bite of the lime green flesh, moaning in ecstasy.

"Are you eating it or making love to it?" He snapped.

"Oh, I'd definitely do that if I could," Lily laughed unabashedly. "You _have_ to try some."

"I said, _no._ But I'd like you to answer something for me."

She moaned again – _purposefully_ – knowing now that it made him uneasy and enjoying watching him squirm. "I'll tell you what, Severus. We'll make a trade: a bite of this spectacular, orgasm-inducing avocado for an answer to your question." He glared daggers at her, and he could tell she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Do we have a deal?"

Snape glared at her. "I don't like to negotiate."

"Well, I'm not one of your students," she challenged. "You don't scare me. That's my offer, Snape. Take it or leave it."

Snape glowered at her. _I should just leave,_ he simmered. _She is an absolute menace._ But his burning curiosity got the better of him, and he sighed in resignation. "Fine. Give me the damn thing." He snatched it from her outstretched fingers, and she only laughed harder.

"So what's your question?"

"What were your parent's names?"

Her smile instantly became more subdued, and she looked off into the distance. With a sigh, she finally answered, "Phillip and Marjorie Prewett. They died in a car accident when I was seven… A drunk driver hit us head-on. They were killed instantly, but I survived. I don't really remember much."

 _Prewett… Where have I heard that name before?_ "I'm sorry…" He was always at a loss for what to say during situations like this, so he left it at that. After a moment he asked, "Did you have any other family that you can remember?"

" _Oh_ no," Lily said, some of the pluck returning to her tone as she looked at him again. "Bite first. That was our deal."

He stabbed the spoon into the flesh with a growl, removing a chunk and shoving it into his mouth. But a moment later his eyebrows rose in astonishment. It was actually rather creamy and delicious.

Her smile was back full-force as she watched his expression change. "It's good, right?"

"It is." He savored it a moment longer, then looked back at her. "Did you seem to have good luck as a child? Well…"

"With the exception of my parents, you mean?" She considered for a moment. "Yes, actually. With little things. I could always find things that were lost, even if they didn't belong to me. All the other kids at the orphanage always used to come to me when they were looking for things, because when we'd do it together we'd usually find things pretty quickly." She chuckled at the memory. "I think it was just the extra pair of eyes. And I was unnaturally good for my age at treating other people's injuries. They all used to call me 'the little mother hen'. It's actually why I became a nurse. And that's two bites, please."

"What?"

"You asked me two questions."

Huffing in irritation but not really meaning it, Snape took another bite of the velvety avocado. It really was quite good.

"I had some second or third cousins that the authorities tried to reach after the accident. I'd never met them, so I don't really remember. I think their last name was Weatherby…?" She bit her lip, trying to recall the details. "I have all this information on some old paperwork back home."

He nodded, taking another bite and trying to identify where he'd heard the name Prewett before. _A student? God knows there's been enough of them throughout the years…_ He sighed to himself, chewing thoughtfully. _Maybe I'm wrong,_ he considered, because he couldn't quite seem to pinpoint it.

"Oh!" Lily suddenly cried. "I remember! The Weasleys!"

 _ ****Author's Note: I've been accused of making Lily a "Mary Sue" (had to look that up), and all I can say is GIVE IT A CHANCE, PEEPS! Lol. I honestly thought that it would be a cute twist to make Lily a Weasley, given how she's never had a family of her own. (I mean, can't you just picture Jilly being doted on by Mrs. Weasley when she's never had a grandma? How cute is that?) But it wasn't going to lead to any spectacular powers or anything (the fact is that that hadn't even crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion.)**_

 _ **I hope I've been able to instill a LITTLE confidence in my writing ability, at this point. If not, let me just put your fears at rest now: Lily is not, nor will she ever be, "a great and powerful" witch (in the traditional sense.) Had she perhaps gotten some training when she was younger, maybe that would be a different story. But the fact remains that I feel she can add a lot of growth and development to the overall plot, so I'm keeping her as-is. If you can handle that, great. I can't wait to keep sharing this story with you. If you can't, great. I hope you find another story that suites your tastes.**_

 _ **Butterbeers all around! No hard feelings either way. Cheers, friends!**_


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

 ****Author's Note: This chapter is definitely not for the faint of heart. It took me longer than normal to write because it was difficult for me to tap into this much twisted horror… But it's necessary for the plot, so… Onwards.**

Snape almost asphyxiated himself on the soft fruit, accidentally inhaling it down into his lungs. His eyes watered as he choked and coughed through his shock.

"You alright?" Lily asked, looking alarmed.

 _No. I am most definitely NOT alright!_

"Fine…" he gasped.

 _How was this possible? How did she never receive a Hogwarts letter? How did the Weasleys not know about her?_

"Here," she said, still sounding a bit anxious as she quickly pulled a plastic water bottle from her purse and handed it to him. "Drink."

He tipped the bottle to his lips, his airway finally beginning to clear. Taking a few gulps, he tried to hand the bottle back to her, but her eyes were no longer on him. Instead, he found her gaze fastened to the scars on his forearm, which he'd unintentionally just revealed.

Immediately pulling his arm away to shake his sleeve down, Lily said softly, "You're not hiding anything I haven't already seen." Snape went still. He supposed that was true, but had been so wrapped up in everything that had gone on, he hadn't considered that fact until this very moment. And if he was completely honest with himself, although he knew she'd already seen his scars, he wasn't sure how he felt about her looking at them now.

As if sensing Snape's uncertainty, Lily reached forward and gently grasped his hand. Her eyes flicked back to his, trapping him, not allowing retreat.

"May I?" she asked quietly.

A very large part of Snape wanted to rip his arm away from her tender grasp, scream at her, call her a stupid, naïve little idiot, show her what kind of man he truly was so that she'd back away and never want to lay eyes on him again.

But something kept him still, as still as a deer looking down the barrel of a hunter's gun. And in that moment he couldn't tell if he was the hunter or the deer…

He nodded slowly.

Slowly, Lily turned his hand and placed it palm-up within her own. Gently pushing his sleeve back to the crease of his elbow, her small fingertips lightly traced the many crisscrossing scars. She stared down at them a long time, as if memorizing their paths, trying to decipher the story behind each one.

Then, with an acceptance and understanding he'd only ever known from one other in his life, she raised his arm and placed a tender kiss on the inside of his wrist.

His breath caught in his throat. They watched each other for a long moment, her thumb gently grazing the place where her lips had been.

"You are a good man, Severus Snape."

Snape had always prided himself on his ability to cut down those around him with mere words. It helped keep people at bay, always giving him the control he so desperately needed. But for the first time in his miserable, pathetic life, Snape was completely at a loss for words. It terrified him.

A sudden burning erupted on his left arm, and he hissed at the unexpected pain. The Dark Mark was scorching in its unanticipated intensity.

Voldemort was calling. And he was angry.

"I must go," Snape said, jumping to his feet.

"Why?"

"I just… have to go." He looked around, intending to find somewhere deserted that he could apparate, but turned back to her at the last moment. "Lily…" he said urgently, "Go home. It's not safe."

"What are you talking about? What's wrong?" Her eyes were wide and anxious.

" _Please_ Lily, just listen to me. Get Jillian and _go home."_

He waited until she gave a jerky nod.

And with that he raced to find a hidden place so that he could apparate to the Dark Lord's side.

He landed in the entranceway to Spinner's End already running toward the stairs. Taking them three at a time, he rushed into his old bedroom and threw Harry's trunk haphazardly onto the floor, using a wordless charm to enlarge it as it flew through the air. It landed at the foot of the bed with a large _thud._

 _I would be as good as dead if they found that on me,_ he thought, spinning on his heel and hurrying into his own bedroom. He threw his Death Eater robes over his white button down and grabbed the hated mask, desperately trying to calm himself so he would be able to Occlude in the Dark Lord's presence. Not bothering to return downstairs, he apparated directly to the gates of Malfoy Manner.

The sun was gone when arrived at his destination, swallowed up by a thick, unnatural grey carpet of fog. An unearthly cold settled into his bones, and Snape knew there were dementors somewhere nearby. An albino peacock followed his movements from high on a trimmed hedge as he hurried up the gravel driveway and made his salute, passing through the wrought iron gates as if they were naught but wisps of smoke. As he did so, he slipped the Death Eater's mask over his blank face.

A large manor house suddenly appeared out of the gloom, the elaborate candelabras on the front stoop flickering eerie orange patterns onto the heavy wooden doors. Gravel cracked under his feet as he made his way toward the manor house, and as he climbed the stairs to the entrance three at a time, the intricately carved doors swung open to admit him.

The dimly lit entrance hall was huge, larger than his entire sitting room, and covered in a thick, plush carpet that padded his hasty footsteps. Reaching the door at the far end of the hall, his hand hovered over the brass knob for the space of a heartbeat, allowing Snape to slow his breathing and shut down his emotions, locking his memories deep behind the vault of his cold, deadened gaze.

He turned the handle, admitting himself quietly to the high ceilinged drawing room. The furniture had been banished, leaving only the highly polished wooden floors reflecting the flames in the enormous fireplace at the end of the room. The Dark Lord had his back turned to the semi-circle of Death Eaters surrounding him.

Snape took his allocated place among the others, noticing without any emotion that he was not the last to arrive. That unfortunate honor fell to Amycus and Alecto Carrow, who hurried into the drawing room together not long after Snape, their footsteps echoing like thunder in the quiet. Before they could take their places within the circle, a cold, high voice rang out over the room.

"Amycus… Alecto… I find myself disappointed at your lack of urgency to join my side when I call." Back still to the assembled group, Snape saw the Dark Lord reach into his robe and remove his wand as he spoke.

"I'm… I'm sorry, My Lord!" Amycus stammered in obvious terror. "We were—"

 _"Silence."_ The Dark Lord's snake-like voice echoed through the cold room, bouncing in unnatural echoes off the ceiling and dark corners. Amycus and Alecto stood frozen in place, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.

The moment lengthened unendingly, and Alecto seemed to think this was a good sign. "Go!" she whispered harshly to her brother, trying to push him into their allotted places.

But in a swirl of black robes, the Dark Lord spun on the spot and cried, _"Crucio!"_ The siblings crumpled instantly to the floor, screaming and writing in agony, their limbs twisting and jerking uncontrollably.

The rest of the Death Eaters gleefully looked on, enjoying the torture almost as much as their lord, almost smiling in relief beneath their masks that it was not they themselves that were at his mercy.

But Snape never took his gaze from the Dark Lord.

As suddenly as it began, the Dark Lord ended it. He stared down at the crumpled siblings moaning softly at his feet, caressing his wand as if it were a lover. "I hope that will sufficiently remind you not to delay the next time."

Stumbling to their feet, Alecto murmured, "Y-Yes, My Lord. Thank you for the reminder." Abandoning her brother on the floor, she hurried quickly to her space. The Dark Lord stared silently, mercilessly down at Amycus, until the man was finally able to rise on his own and take his place next to his sister.

His snakelike gaze scanned the group, anger radiating from him in palpable waves as he considered his most loyal disciples. He continued to stroke his wand, and the gesture was unquestionably threatening. His slit-like eyes narrowed even further, and the tension in the room was tangible as his followers tensed under his scrutiny.

"Harry Potter has gone missing," he murmured severely. "The boy whohas so eagerly plotted my demise, who has proven to be a continual thorn in my side, is nowhere to be found. And you – my most fervent supporters, who claim to want nothing more than my ascension to power – don't seem to care."

The assembled Death Eaters quivered like rats trapped by a rabid wolf.

"I think that a lesson in loyalty is in order. Lucius, step forward."

Snape watched the man creep toward the Dark Lord out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy's shoulders were straight and proud, but there was a slight tremble to his body.

"My Lord," he said, dropping to one knee.

"Was it not _you_ that assured me the boy was almost within our grasp? That he would be ours before he even had a chance to realize he was being hunted?"

Malfoy's adam's apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed hard, looking up at the Dark Lord.

"Yes, My Lord," he stated, trying desperately to speak in confident tones. But his voice came out in a hushed, terrified whisper. They stared at each other for a long, horrifying moment. Malfoy's hands fisted at his sides as he tried to control his trembling.

 _"Faciem Sectis,"_ the Dark Lord suddenly hissed, slicing his wand through the air as if he were wielding a knife. A scream burst from Malfoy as his hand went to his face, blood pouring beneath his palm and onto the front of his ropes. The man whimpered in agony.

"Remove your hand!" the Dark Lord commanded, and Malfoy had no choice but to do as he was told. Pulling his hand away, there was an audible gasp from some of the assembled. The entire right side of Malfoy's face had a deep gash that ran from up into his scalp, down his eye, and ending at his jaw. The wound was so deep that his eye was visibly cut in two, and Snape could see his teeth, gums, and tongue as he panted in pain.

"I do not respond well to _lies,_ Lucius. I can only hope that scarring the face you take such pride in will remind you to never lie to me again. Now remove yourself from my presence," he said dismissively.

Malfoy rose unsteadily to his feet, staggering to the door. But he froze when the Dark Lord called out, "I did not grant you permission to _leave,_ Lucius! Get back to your place! And put on your mask!"

Malfoy was not even trying to hide his trembling any longer. Or perhaps it was impossible to do so. The pain of the heavy metal mask against his mangled face must have been immeasurable.

The Dark Lord continued, his voice menacing. "You should be proud, Lucius. It was your son that provided the information that allowed me to welcome our next _guest._ Be sure to thank him later – he is the only reason you are not dead." He paused, studying the blood continuing to pour from under the man's mask. Then he suddenly called out, "Wormtail, fetch our visitor so that she may be introduced."

The man jumped out of line as if he had been whipped. The only sound in the room for long moments was the crackle and snap of the logs in the fire.

Suddenly Wormtail reappeared, dragging a young girl who seemed to have a difficult time walking. She was whimpering in pain, hunched over as Wormtail pushed her forcibly forward. Snape did not recognize her until Wormtail shoved her with such force that she fell forward, landing directly at the Dark Lord's feet.

 _Parvarti Patil._

She whimpered on the floor. "Please," she begged, "no more. I don't know anything! Please…" She raised her eyes in terror, and for the first time Snape saw the extent of her injuries. Her face was swollen and bruised, multiple cuts still dripping blood. The girl had obviously been badly beaten.

The Dark Lord stood glaring down at her. "Tut tut, girl. Is that any way to greet your betters?" The girl only continued to whimper in pain, and he murmured, "Just tell me what I want to know, and it will end."

"I swear, I don't know anything!" she cried, tears beginning to stream down her face beneath her swollen and blackened lids.

"I think you do," the Dark Lord said in a voice that was almost a caress. "I have been informed that two years ago you attended the Yule Ball with Harry Potter – you are housemates, even in the same year. I believe you know much more than you are willing to admit…"

The girl broke, her hands clasped before her as she beseechingly bowed at his feet. "Please, _please,_ I don't know him very well! We're not friends. He barely even talks to me. Her-Hermione Granger and Ron Weas-Ron Weasley, _they're_ his f-friends! They will know where he is!"

"Perhaps you need a bit more persuasion to loosen your tongue!" The Dark Lord hissed, his eyes glowing red as they narrowed at the girl below him. Snape felt the cold hand of guilt beginning to squeeze his chest. He was having a difficult time keeping his Occlumency shields in place.

 _Do something!_ His mind screamed at him. But what? What could he do?

"Take off your shirt," the Dark Lord spat at Parvarti.

"W-what?!"

"I said _take off your shirt!"_

Parvarti was openly weeping, trembling so hard that she was having a difficult time complying. She tried desperately to cover herself with her hands as she dropped her shirt beside her.

"Now stand against the wall."

The girl rose, but fell once again when she tried to take a step. She was forced to crawl the rest of the way, clinging to the wall for support as she stood. Her face and forearms were pressed against the cold stone, her terrified weeping muffled by the knuckles she had stuffed into her mouth.

" _Flagellum!"_ The Dark Lord cried, wielding his wand like a whip. With a loud _snap!_ a lash appeared across Parvarti's back. The girl shrieked in agony, but the Dark Lord continued in spite – or perhaps because of – her cries.

The girl could no longer stand by the time the Dark Lord stopped, and Snape had lost count of the lashes with bile in his throat.

"Such a pity to waste even a drop of your pure blood, girl," he muttered, looking down at her bleeding back for a long, thoughtful moment. "It was my intention to kill you this night, but perhaps we can spare you that unfortunate event." He turned to the gathered Death Eaters. "She will make a fine broodmare for one of my followers. Coming from a pureblood family, she can provide you with unpolluted heirs. Who in my circle shall be rewarded for their loyalty…?" His eyes raked the group before he finally settled on someone.

"Antonin!" he cried, as if Dolohov was about to receive the greatest of gifts. "You bore your years in Azkaban like a true disciple, never wavering in your loyalty to me. Come Antonin, claim your prize," and he motioned with a sweep of his hand toward the half-naked, bleeding girl sobbing in the corner.

Dolohov stepped forward, bowing at the Dark Lord's feet with an eager, "Thank you, My Lord! Thank you!"

"Enjoy your time together, Antonin."

Dolohov rose, walking quickly toward Parvarti. The girl cringed into herself, looking as if she wanted nothing more than to disappear. When Dolohov grabbed her roughly by the arm, she began screeching in terror, trying to fight him off. But in her current state, she was easily overpowered.

 _"NO! Please! Don't do this! I swear I don't know anything! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!"_

Dolohov dragged her screaming from the room, but her shrieks continued to echo in the entrance hall until they ended with a sudden _crack!_ of apparition.

Snape was unexpectedly glad of the ghastly mask covering his features. He doubted he could keep the look of horror off his face, and the scene he'd just witnessed made his stomach violently roil and churn. If not for his iron will just barely keeping his Occlumency shields contained, he would have retched right there on the floor.

Being beaten so severely made him cringe in horror for the girl. But knowing firsthand the terror that Dolohov was about to inflict on her almost made him lose control.

 _I should have done something! I should have prevented it!_

"Severus," the Dark Lord said, interrupting his disturbing thoughts. Snape had to forcibly swallow back the bile before he could answer.

"My Lord?"

"You are with the Potter boy on a daily basis, Severus. There must be something you can tell me, something you have learned in your time at the school."

"No, My Lord," he said quickly, "I know nothing."

The Dark Lord sneered, baring his teeth in anger.

"I must admit that I find myself displeased with you, Severus," he murmured menacingly. _"Crucio!"_

As the agony ripped through Snape's body and threw him to the floor, the only thing that penetrated his mind was relief. The pain of the Cruciatus curse was excruciating, making every nerve ending in his body explode in anguish. But it allowed him to shove his torment and guilt down, down, down… until all he could feel was empty numbness.


	16. Chapter 15

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 15**

 _ ****Author's Note: I'm so sorry that this chapter took a few extra days to be published. My soldier husband had to have emergency surgery, and the story took a back seat to the fear and chaos. He's good now (thank GOD), but as you can imagine it's been a little nuts around here. With two small children to look after, my business to run, and now my convalescing bed-ridden hubby to take care of for the next 30 days, it might take me a little longer than normal to get my chapters finished. It's literally been a paragraph here, a paragraph there… But I'm still determined to get this story purged onto paper. Thanks for bearing with me, everyone!**_

 _ **Also, I took some creative liberties with the Pepper-Up Potion. I'm aware it wouldn't normally be used for the purposes that I put it to.**_

"Hello?" Harry called as he stumbled from the floo and almost fell flat on his face. _Will I ever learn how to do that properly?_ Straightening himself he called again, "Anyone home?"

The floo flared once more behind him, and Remus emerged, looking around at the quiet house. "Where is Severus?"

"He must still be doing errands," Harry said with a shrug, trying to sound casual. But his gut refused to settle – something seemed off.

"Well, that's alright," Remus said with a smile. "I'll just stay until he gets back then, shall I?"

"Sure…" Harry replied, grateful for both the company and the distraction.

Remus retrieved the marble-sized bags from one pocket and the shrunken paper sacks from Diagon Ally from the other, and with a flick of his wand returned them to normal size. "Why don't we get these put away in the meantime," he said.

Their arms full, they headed up the stairs together, and Remus looked just as curious to see the rest of the house as Harry had felt that first night. But as Harry opened the door to his borrowed bedroom, the first thing his eyes landed on was his trunk sitting haphazardly at the end of the bed.

"My stuff is here!" he exclaimed in astonishment, dropping his bags on the floor and bending down to open the lid. With relief he saw that all his things were intact, his wand tucked snugly into a corner, which he immediately pocketed. "That's strange… Professor Snape didn't tell me he was going to the Dursley's to get it..." That feeling of unease returned, swirling in his gut like the early stages of a winter storm.

"He probably didn't want you to worry," Remus responded with a smile, obviously trying to mollify Harry. "How about we go back downstairs for a game of Wizard's chess while we wait?"

But three hours later Remus looked decidedly worried, although he was trying to hide that fact from Harry. After being by trounced by Remus a handful of times, Harry had admitted defeat; there was no way he could concentrate properly with that restless feeling churning in his gut.

Harry sat at the small coffee table, getting a jump start on the essay Snape had assigned regarding The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Remus had chosen an interesting looking book in Snape's collection and settled on the sofa to read it, but Harry kept catching a worried expression cross his features, and he didn't seem to be getting very far along. In fact, he appeared to be on the same page for quite some time, staring unseeingly down at the page before him with a troubled expression.

Finally, their gazes locked and they silently acknowledged each other's concern. "I'm sure he's fine, Harry," Remus said quietly, and Harry didn't know if he was trying to convince Harry or himself. "How about some dinner?"

"I think there are some leftovers from last night," Harry offered dully, not really in the mood to eat.

But at that moment a _crack!_ sounded in the front hall, followed shortly by a heavy thud. Harry and Remus were on their feet instantly, and Harry gasped as he rounded the corner.

Snape was on his knees, looking haggard with an unsettling, vacant look on his face.

"He knows."

Lupin froze, eyes going wide.

Helping Snape to his feet, Harry immediately knew that his professor would need the potions for his ribs once again; although he didn't gasp – didn't even acknowledge the pain, really – he seemed to be favoring that side when he walked.

 _He needs to REST!_ Harry thought with sudden anxiety. _He's never going to get better like this._ But even more worrisome than the awkward movements was the fact that Harry could clearly feel the tremors racking the man's body.

"Where were you?" He asked Snape, that cold storm in his gut starting to rage like an icy blizzard. " _What happened?"_

"The Dark Lord called us to order."

Strangely, it wasn't the thought of Voldemort that sent a bolt of panic through him, but the deadened, empty voice with which Snape continued to respond.

Harry helped his professor onto the sofa, and Snape's gaze stared blankly ahead of him. His hands hung limply in his lap, but his fingers continued to twitch every few seconds.

Harry was at a complete loss. He had never seen the man like this before. Normally a man of action, Snape had always had a plan, always moved forward in the face of an emergency. Even before, when they couldn't stand one another, Snape had always been one that seemed to instinctively know what needed to be done, and would never stop until it was finished. Never once had he seen the blank expression that was currently on the man's face. It terrified Harry more than Voldemort ever could.

"He knows you are no longer with your relatives," Snape croaked in a strangely distant voice, his devoid gaze continuing to stare straight ahead at nothing. Harry looked worriedly up at Remus, and was not comforted by the fact that Remus seemed to be just as worried by Snape's behavior as Harry.

 _Do something!_ He wanted to scream at Remus, but what was there to be done?

"I'll be right back," Harry murmured after a moment, racking his brain as he ran quickly through the kitchen and downstairs to the lab.

 _Think, Harry, think! There's got to be SOMETHING that can help him!_

Rushing to the potions, he snatched up the three that Snape needed once more for his rib. Then, trying desperately to recall anything that Madam Pomfrey had ever given him in the hospital wing during his many stays, he grabbed a pain potion and a double dosage of nerve potion – both things that Harry remembered taking after the night in the graveyard when Voldemort had returned to his body and tortured him. Judging by the tremors in Snape's hands, his professor was obviously suffering the effects of the Cruciatus curse. As he headed back toward the stairs, he turned almost as an afterthought and grabbed a Pepper-Up potion for good measure. Hopefully that would get some animation back into his professor's lifeless eyes.

As Harry came up the stairs and into the sitting room, he overheard Remus talking in low, urgent tones, answered by a lifeless-sounding Snape.

"— the Order. They have to be notified immediately."

"And the girl, Parvarti Patil. The headmaster must be informed." Snape's voice had the far away, misty quality that Professor Trelawney took on when she was trying to sound mystical. But in Snape's dulcet tones it only made him sound zombie-like.

"The headmaster is away," Remus murmured. "I don't know if anyone has a way of reaching him. I will get word to McGonagall."

Harry hurried to Snape's side, shoving the potions into his limp hands. Snape watched him approach but didn't seem to register the potions, for they all slipped from his fingers.

"Professor," Harry said in a firm voice, once again pushing the vials into his hands. "Professor, take these." Snape seemed to shake himself ever so slightly, perhaps realizing for the first time where he was. Harry winced as the small glass vials clanked together in his professor's twitching fingers before he raised each one to his lips.

Remus spoke then. "I will go to Grimmauld Place and get back to you as soon as we know anything." He looked at Harry and gave him a tense smile. "Don't worry. You have a lot of people watching out for you."

"I know," Harry responded. _But it's not me I'm worried about…_

And with one last worried glance at Snape, Remus flooed away.

Harry stared at his professor for a long, silent moment. _The tremors seemed to have stopped, at least. And he's not holding his side anymore._ But still Snape was staring off at nothing, his eyes devoid of any emotion. _I think it's time to call Madam Pomfrey,_ Harry thought, not knowing what else to do. Snape hated to ask for help, and Harry couldn't remember a single time that Snape had asked for the Medi-Witch for anything, even when he'd been injured. But Harry was completely out of his depth as to how to help his professor, and he was starting to get seriously concerned.

Noticing a glimmer at the man's feet as he rose to floo-call Madam Pomfrey, Harry reached down and picked up the Pepper-Up potion.

"Sir," he said, slipping it urgently into Snape's hand. "Take this, ok? I'll be right back."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape's gaze was fuzzy, unfocused, drifting in and out of clarity. He couldn't tell what all the hazy shapes beyond his vision were, nor could he bring himself to care. In fact, he couldn't seem to _feel_ much of anything.

He was aware, however, that there were feelings dancing at the edge of his consciousness. But every movement seemed to cause a ripple that made them impossible to focus on, like trying to capture dust motes dancing in a bright beam of sunlight.

 _Screaming…_

 _Whips…_

 _Cigarette smoke…_

 _Hands in the night…_

His conscious reacted swiftly, shoving the whispered awareness forcibly away, and he continued to drift in the semi-conscious oblivion.

It was empty here. Barren. S _afe._

"Sir," someone said urgently from far away. "Take this, ok?" They slipped something small and hard into his lifeless fingers. "I'll be right back."

His fingers whispered over the smooth, cold surface. _A potion bottle._ Why would he need this?As soon as the question occurred to him, he felt the stirrings of… something. But the feeling was not quite right, as if it were another's. As though he were standing over a hospital bed staring down at someone else's suffering.

 _Still…_ If someone was hurting – even if it wasn't him – and this potion could help them, he should take it. He slowly brought the bottle to his lips and drank.

Within moments the thoughts hovering at the edges of his awareness began to focus with painful, concentrated clarity. His conscious was a sudden inferno, his mind exploding with sound. His thoughts became a firestorm of tormented guilt.

 _Parvarti Patil screaming in agony as the unseen whip lashed repeatedly across her back-_

 _Parvarti pleading and crying as she was forcibly dragged from the hall by Dolohov-_

 _His father's hands lighting the cigarette before reaching toward him—_

The sudden knowledge of exactly who, and _what,_ he was crashed over him, knocking the wind from his lungs. An agonized cry tore from deep in his throat as fingers from both hands ran feverishly through his hair, grasping and pulling desperately at his scalp, trying to release the pain that was trapped in his brain like an acidic, flesh-eating parasite.

Breathing harshly and eyes wild, Snape's distraught gaze landed on Harry. The boy stared back at him, startled and perhaps even a little afraid. He was crouched on the floor in front of the fire as if he'd been about to floo call someone.

"Sir…" Harry murmured pleadingly, eyes wide, "I think you should let me call Madam Pomfrey. You- You've been- I don't know what to _do_ for you."

 _Don't do this!_ He heard Parvarti wailing as she was dragged from the drawing room.

 _Severus, you know what to do for me._ His father…

"Harry," Snape croaked, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and barely keeping himself in control. "You need to leave…"

"What?" The boy said in surprise. "N-No, you're not yourself. Something's wrong. I'm not—"

" _LEAVE_!" Snape bellowed menacingly as he sprang toward him, only barely keeping himself from harming the boy. In his rage, a part of him wanted to leap at Harry and tear him to pieces for witnessing his breakdown.

Potter jumped to his feet, backing quickly away in fear. But the little idiot still wasn't leaving. Snape was aware that he was precariously close to losing it – the Occlumency shields he relied on long-since shattered by the memories that the day had evoked – and he didn't want to accidentally hurt the boy. It was like wrestling a snarling werewolf inside him that wanted to attack, and Snape was only _just_ holding it back.

Rage bubbled up from deep inside as Harry simply stood there staring at him, until his hands shook with the strain of containing it and red started creeping into his vision.

"I told you to _GO,_ Potter! _"_ Snape whipped out his wand and Harry sprinted from the room as if his life depended on it.

Snape was panting with effort as he desperately tried to piece together his Occulmency shields and regain control. He paced like an enraged bear in front of the fireplace. But horrible visions of the Patil girl screaming as she was being whipped continued to scourge his mind. Suddenly the vision warped and transformed into _him_ as a boy, his father drawing blood as he stood over him with his belt and brought it down repeatedly against his bony back and shoulders.

Snape snatched an ornate crystal bookend off the shelf in front of him and hurled it into the fireplace, and the glass exploded with a resounding crash. But it did no good. Instead it was like the glass had shattered inside his skull, for he could almost feel the shards and fragments slicing, cutting, carving away at his insides.

Striding across the hall, he pushed the door to his study open with such force that it crashed into the wall behind it and bounced back at him. Snatching the decanter of firewhiskey and the matching glass off the bookshelf, he poured himself a double shot and tossed it back, trying desperately to numb his roiling emotions and regain a semblance of control.

It did nothing. He poured himself another. And another.

By his fifth his vision was starting to blur once more. But the panic, rage, and fear still held his mind prisoner. He poured another in desperation. His ninth saw the bottom of the bottle, and he stumbled to sit heavily in his chair behind the desk. The room was spinning, but a scream from Parvarti burst within his memory as he closed his eyes to lay his head on his arms.

He refilled the bottle with his wand and kept drinking.

By the time the second bottle was empty, he had drunk himself into a restless sleep with his head on an arm flung out in front of him. Snape was so oblivious to the world that he didn't move when Harry crept into the room and shook out the thick quilt folded neatly in the corner. The boy seemed afraid to approach him. He moved slowly and cautiously to his side, ready to bolt at any movement, before draping the blanket over his sleeping form.

Pulling his wand and keeping his eyes securely on Snape, Harry backed away until his legs hit the edge of the sofa, and he fell into it. He watched over his professor's prone form for long hours before the emotion of the evening finally wore him down, and he slept.

. . . . .

 _His mother had been asleep for some time, having disappeared into their bedroom down the hall after yet another screaming match. He'd heard the yells all the way upstairs, and had clearly perceived the slam of his parents' bedroom door not long after. He'd immediately turned off his light and feigned sleep, as it was always on nights like these that his father crept into his room like a thief in the night._

 _A thief of his son's purity and innocence._

 _The squeak alerted him, and he knew instantly that it was his bedroom door. He'd always woken to that small sound in the night as if it were a gun shot._

 _Squeezing his eyes shut, Severus silently prayed that his father would turn around and leave him be. Sometimes he simply stood, staring silently down at his son for long minutes, before turning around and disappearinginto the shadows. His back to the man, Severus focused on keeping his breathing deep and even, but it was difficult to keep from trembling since he could feel his father's eyes boring holes through the back of his skull._

 _He did not hear his father approach, and could not prevent himself from jerking violently when he felt the man's breath on his ear as he whispered, "I know you're not sleeping." His father's arms fell heavily around him, trapping Severus, ensnaring him in the hated web of vile degradation and excruciating pain. Ten-year-old Severus fought valiantly that night, but was no match for the strength in his father's arms that a decade of working in the mill had earned him._

 _Tears ran freely from his eyes as his father flipped him forcefully onto his stomach, holding him down as he confined him within those brutal, hated arms._

" _It's time to put those lessons to good use."_

Snape awoke fighting desperately against the arms around him, the horror of the dream still as real as the terror that currently gripped him. The tears streamed down his face for long, agonizing moments, blinding him as he untangled and finally freed his limbs from what was tightly enfolding his body.

 _A quilt…_ he thought as the panic still coursed through his veins, making his body tremble and his heart race. _Nothing but a blanket._

But the harrowing terror of the dream refused to leave him. A cold sweat broke over his body, and his tearful trembling only worsened his rattled nerves. The dream had felt so real, his father's arms as brutal and inhuman as they had been up until the moment of his death. His voice still echoed within Snape's skull, the feeling of his whispered breath against his skin bringing him close to the point of retching.

Snape was desperate to regain control from his Occlumency shields, which until this day he'd never been completely without. Not since the beginning when Dumbledore had taught him the skill when he'd switched allegiances.

Snape almost dropped his wand as he pulled it out with shaking fingers. Yanking his sleeve up above his elbow, he quickly slashed his forearm once and hissed in pain, but the obligatory relief that his cutting had produced in the past refused to come. A second slash, and still his body quaked with fearful anxiety as his father prowled within the shadows of his mind. It was only after a third savage slice that caused an ark of blood to spray across his desk that he finally started to feel a semblance of the calm he so desperately sought.

Snape's arm hung limply over the side of the chair as he leaned back, his mind finally – _finally –_ restoring itself to the collected, unemotional order that allowed him to calm his panicked breathing and ease his racing heartbeat. He did not care about the angry wounds on his forearm. Nor did he care about the puddles of blood dripping wetly onto the throw rug beneath his desk.

His mind was finally his own again, the ghosts of his pasts no longer haunting him.

It was only as the chaos of his mind faded into silence that Severus realized that he was not alone.


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

 ****** _ **Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the get well wishes! The hubs is an EOD tech in the military (as in, he finds and removes roadside bombs – yeah, tell me I don't hold my breath every time he deploys for a year …) Needless to say, I was scared shitless ('scuse my French, but it's the truth) when I got the call that he was injured. Thank God he was here at home, and only training. At least that way the kids and I could be with him. He's been through a lot but will recover without any permanent damage. He's literally my hero; I adore that man more than is probably considered healthy. Thanks again for your thoughts and good juju, everyone! It is VERY MUCH appreciated. Xoxo 3**_

In the short time that he'd been alive, Harry had dealt with more than his fair share of anger directed his way. He'd been weaned on the emotion at the malicious hands of his relatives; raised to anticipate it from various people at Hogwarts; and more recently, almost killed by it at the hands of Voldemort and his followers.

But none of that compared to the seething look of rage currently simmering in his professor's eyes. It was obvious that the scene Harry had just witnessed was never meant to be seen by anyone, least of all him.

Harry had woken to the sounds of a struggle, convinced for a moment that Snape was fighting against a very real, albeit invisible opponent, and Harry had been ready to jump to his defense.

But then…

Harry had been too shocked – and then too panicked – to do anything more than helplessly observe the scene playing out in front of him. He was rooted to the sofa as if by an immensely powerful sticking charm. And after Snape had delivered the first vicious slice to his arm, the scars Harry had seen that first night suddenly made sense. Watching Snape repeatedly hurt himself in that way had not only staggered Harry, but had shaken him to the very core.

Harry was winded as if he'd been punched in the gut, but he tried not to draw attention to himself as strained to catch his breath. He must not have been quiet enough. Snape's eyes darted to his and held, looking just as shocked as Harry felt. But then his gaze darkened, a furious rage igniting behind their depths. He stood up so fast that the chair clattered to the floor, and Harry jumped violently at the sudden movement. With a sweep of his arm, Snape knocked everything on his cluttered desk to the floor with a resounding smash. He then advanced on Harry like a raging bull.

Snape's eyes never left Harry's as he stalked toward him, and Harry couldn't have tried to escape even if he'd wanted to.

His professor seized him by the shirt collar, lifting Harry to his feet and shaking him violently. Then he slammed him against the wall, knocking the air from Harry's lungs.

 _Odd,_ Harry thought randomly. _I am not afraid like when Uncle Vernon comes at me…_

"Did you like the show, Potter?!" Snape snarled, startling Harry out of his thoughts. "Think it's _amusing_ to watch your hated Slytherin Potions professor get what he deserves?"

Harry didn't even try to fight back. If anything, he understood this unbearable pain more than anything else Snape had done in the past few days, having lived with it himself all of last year.

"No, sir," Harry murmured quietly. "I… I didn't like seeing that. And I _don't_ think you deserve it."

Snape held him against the wall for a long moment, and Harry thought he saw uncertainty flicker behind his angry gaze for the barest of moments. Bu then it was gone, a cold fury taking its place, and Harry wondered if he'd even seen it at all.

Snape released him with a snarl. "I want you _gone_ from here, Potter! You are no longer welcome in this house!"

Harry froze, his body going cold in horror.

 _No…_ After everything, Harry still felt safer here than he ever had anywhere else. Snape couldn't mean to kick him out!

"Sir…" he tried desperately, taking a few pleading steps toward the man. "Sir, _please!_ After everything… I… I thought—"

"You thought _what,_ Potter? That just because I allowed you to stay in my old bedroom and told you some trivial facts about your mother, that now we're _family_?" He spat the word as if it were the foulest curse, and Harry recoiled as if he'd been struck. As much as Harry hated to admit it, that was exactly what he'd been starting to think.

Harry couldn't prevent the moisture that pooled in his eyes. Snape glared at him hatefully with a look of purest loathing.

Harry swallowed the burn at the back of his throat, trying to not to acknowledge the sense of betrayal. And although he knew he should be feeling it, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to muster up any anger toward the man. He understood better than most that Snape was lashing out. Trying to get through to him, he stared at Snape and murmured, "I'm glad mum is not alive to see this. It would have devastated her."

Bringing up his mother was the wrong thing to do. Snape lunged at him with a roar, grabbing him fiercely enough by the upper arms to leave bruises. But in that moment of contact, Harry caught a mental image that he didn't think Snape realized he'd let slip past his barriers.

 _A large man, obviously one closely related to Snape. He had the same hooked nose and dark hair. A boy lay beneath him, looking up at him in pure terror and agony. Like Harry, the man had him pinned by the arms, and the boy was begging for the man to stop hurting him._

 _He realized with a start that the boy was in fact a very young Severus Snape._

" _No, please Da… It hurts! Please stop, Da!"_

Harry came back to himself gasping in great gulps of air.

"SEVERUS!"

Snape froze, but the look of hatred never left his features as he continued to stare down at Harry, still holding him tightly by the arms. Harry was reeling from what he'd seen, and barely registered the sudden surge of raw power now swirling through the room.

"Let go of him, Severus. _Now."_

Snape pushed Harry away from him hard enough to send him stumbling to the floor. Harry barely registered the movement, staring up at his professor from the ground with wide, unnerved eyes.

" _No, please Da… It hurts! Please stop, Da!"_

The way he'd reacted to Dudley and his gang.

The way he'd forced himself into Harry's mind, refusing to believe his denials.

The self-inflicted scars.

Harry wanted to retch. It all suddenly fell into place and made a sick, perverse sort of sense.

"Sir… I…" he whispered, not really knowing what he wanted to say. But the compassion and empathy he felt for the small, helpless child in the vision surged through him. Harry felt more connected to that little boy than he had to anyone else in his entire life.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a firm voice.

"Harry, gather your belongings. You and Remus will be leaving immediately." It was Dumbledore – Dumbledore and Remus were here, and he hadn't even realized. Remus was looking at Snape as if he wanted to kill him, and Dumbledore looked much the same. Harry had never seen that look on either of the men's faces before, and the anger shocked him.

 _But... they don't understand! They don't know!_

The shame that Harry had once felt at the thought of Dumbledore, Remus, or anyone else knowing his deepest secrets was now gone, replaced by a panic of impending doom. He no longer cared if Snape shouted his secrets to the entire school at the start-of-term feast. All he knew was that _he had to stay,_ for the sake of that terrified, lonely, abused boy _._ He had to show Snape that he was not as alone as he thought he was, that someone actually cared. Even if it meant that Snape revealed his secret as he tried to push him away, Harry didn't want to go anywhere else.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, scrambling to his feet. "Sir, please! I… I need to stay. Professor Snape—"

" _No_ Harry," the headmaster said firmly, glaring past him at Professor Snape. "Gather your belongings. You are leaving."

Harry turned to Snape, starting to panic. _I can't leave! I—He—we need each other!_ "Professor Snape! Pleasedon't send me away! I don't wait to go…"

"I am not your father, Potter!" Snape hissed. "I owe you _nothing!"_

Harry stumbled backwards, his breath catching in his throat. The words were like a knife to the heart. Snape continued to glare at him as if he were nothing more than a mess on the bottom of his shoe, and Harry remembered that he was a problem that Snape had never wanted in the first place.

"But… You _helped_ me…"

"Out of _obligation_ , Potter! Do notdelude yourself into thinking I actually give a damn. You are no longer my problem."

 _It's really and truly over, then,_ Harry realized, his entire body going cold. _He's right – he is not my father. It doesn't matter what happened, none of it. He despises me. And he always will._

Harry couldn't help but feel ridiculously childish and pathetic. _How desperate for love am I?_ He thought dejectedly. _Look at how blinded I was… What I almost convinced myself of…_

With one last look at his professor, he tried desperately to not think about the family he could have had – of loving and being loved in return. Then he spun and ran from the room, wanting to never feel anything again.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

"I don't care how much I need the information you provide, Severus. Consider yourself extremely fortunate that I do not throw you into Azkaban this very night. If I _ever_ see you raise a hand against a student again, I will not hesitate."

The wolf had followed Harry from the room, and Snape was alone with Dumbledore. But he refused to meet the headmaster's gaze. He was sure the man would see right through his fragile Occlumency shields, and he wasn't ready to reveal his deepest secrets twice in one night. However, loathe as he was to admit it, Snape was starting to feel the first inklings of guilt and shame beginning to wrap their icy fingers tightly around his insides.

He paced the room like a caged animal, trying desperately to hold onto that self-righteous anger that had always served to protect him so well. The rage that Harry's presence during his weakest moment had invoked had been very real, and in that moment he meant what he said about wanting Potter gone. He tried desperately to hold onto that emotion, but it was as if he was trying to clutch water; the harder he tried to squeeze, the faster the anger faded.

Potter's betrayed and wounded eyes kept flashing through his mind, forcing him to recognize and feel emotions that Snape had been convinced were long-since dead.

 _Dammit! The boy is not my responsibility. He is not even my blood! I. Don't. Want. Him!_

Dumbledore stood silently in the doorway, watching, knowing, even without looking into Snape's eyes. He gave a great sigh.

"Severus…"

" _Don't,_ Albus. Just don't." He felt the old man's penetrating gaze on him as he continued to pace, but Snape refused to look his way.

"Once again, you make me protect the best of you, my boy."

 _That_ raised his hackles, as Snape was sure the old coot knew it would. He stopped and spun toward the headmaster. "The ' _best of me',_ Albus? Which part would that be? The part that allows my anger to sequester me from the rest of the world? Or the part that beats innocent children?" Snape continued his irate pacing, unable to stay still as the anger began to quickly warp into self-disgust.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers before him, tapping his lips in thought. "I was actually referring to the part that cares about the orphaned child of his nemesis enough to open his home as well as his heart." Dumbledore looked hard at him, his eyes changing from kindly father figure to hardened punisher. " _What happened,_ Severus?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair, once again refusing to look at the headmaster. "I lost control," he said with an angry growl. He could tell the old codger was not just going to let it lie with that paltry explanation, so he continued, "The Dark Lord was _very angry_ with his Death Eaters for not knowing more about the disappearance of 'The Boy Who Lived'…" He let the sentence hang heavily in the air between them.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, once again steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "It will interest you to know that Ms. Patil has been rescued, before any more damage could be perpetrated upon her person."

"And Dolohov?"

"Arrested, currently being interrogated before being sent to Azkaban."

"He'll never talk. He's too loyal."

Dumbledore's gaze hardened. "What he intended to do to Ms. Patil may earn him the Dementor's Kiss. Let us hope that fact will loosen his tongue."

Snape paused, considering. "And _me?"_

"I believe your cover is quite secure." The headmaster sighed as he continued, "Dolohov was never the brightest of men, even when he was just a student at Hogwarts. Tonight he made the mistake of making a public arrival with Ms. Patil at his home in a very Muggle part of London. From what I'm told, she put up quite the fight. Both the Aurors as well as the Muggle police were called. And from what I understand, Parvarti was able to… ah…secure quite the shot before she was rescued." There was a twinkle in his eye, but it vanished quickly. "It has been decided that her memory of the entire incident should be removed. And since there will be no lasting physical damage, the girl will make a full recovery."

Snape closed his eyes, releasing a breath he did not realize he was holding. "Thank God it was only the one time," he muttered quietly, almost to himself. "It becomes nearly impossible to remove or alter memories after long-lasting abuse…"

The two men were silent for a long moment before Dumbledore announced, "Harry will not be coming back here."

Snape's eyes shot to meet Dumbledore's. Although he had demanded that very thing only minutes before, for a moment he suddenly wanted to argue against it. But everything came rushing back, and he remembered…

He was not the best choice as guardian for the boy – he never had been. He'd known love only once in his life. And exactly as he'd done back then, he'd rejected it, driving it away in a twisted attempt to protect himself.

He wasn't worthy of love – he realized that now. In fact, it was dangerous to allow anyone to get close to him. _How much of a selfish prick am I for wanting to keep him here with me, safe and protected?_ He thought. _That's assuming he'd even forgive me for what I've just done to him. I'm no better than his vile relatives…_

 _No… It's better this way. Maybe not for the both of us, but definitely for Harry. After all, since when has my miserably pathetic excuse for a life ever mattered?_

Clenching his jaw, Snape nodded once at Dumbledore. "Where will he go?"

"The Burrow. Author and Molly have agreed to take him. They have raised seven children already, and both are wonderful, loving parents. He's as much their son as any one of their other boys."

Snape felt a strong pang in his chest at the word 'son'. But he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

 _It's for the best…_

Lupin appeared then at the foot of the stairs, closely followed by an unexpressive Harry, who stood staring blankly at the floor with both hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

"Do you have everything?" Lupin asked him quietly. Harry just nodded, still staring at the floor. "Well, we'd best be off then. The Weasleys are eager to see you, especially Ron." He tried to catch the boy's eye to offer a smile, but Harry just nodded impassively. Lupin sighed, glancing at Snape with an angry, reproachful look.

Before he'd realized what he was doing, Snape had called out to the boy.

"Potter… I…" Snape faltered, not understanding what was driving him to speak to the boy at all. He had been extremely close to throwing Potter out no more than ten minutes ago, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than to keep him here where he knew he would be safe. Snape knew it was better to just make a clean cut and be done with it, and yet here he was, about to try and convince the boy to remain.

Harry glanced up at him in surprise, a hopeful look creeping into his eyes.

 _Lily's eyes… Don't make the same mistake twice. You know he deserves better than what you could ever offer him._

He ran a hand through his hair. "I… will send anything I find of yours along to the Weasleys."

Crushed… That was the only way to describe how Harry looked in that moment. Before he had a chance to reconsider, Snape turned away so he wouldn't have to see it.

 _Coward!_

"I will be in touch, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly to his back.

The roar of the floo was like the slow-acting burn of acid, and just like that, Snape was alone.

His hands shook as he removed his wand and gently righted the crystal decanter, filling it with amber liquor once more.

 _ ****Author's Note: I'm considering writing a one-shot from Parvati's perspective – when this story is finished, of course. Would anyone be interested in that?**_


	18. Chapter 17

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 17**

 ****Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to all the single parents out there. I honestly don't know how you do it. Screw "The Avengers" – YOU are the true heroes! My husband is alive, thank God, but I've been forced to do things on my own until he recovers. I was raised by a single mom, and I called her last night in tears and thanked her for everything she did for me growing up. We struggled, it was hard, but she made sure I was never without. I've never** _ **truly**_ **understood just how amazing she is until recently. If you know a single parent, be sure to thank them for all the sacrifices they make in order to raise a family, for they are the true "Superman" and "Wonder Woman" of this world.**

Harry was spit from the floo like always, but this time there were hands there to catch him – many, in fact. Stumbling into the group, he raised his eyes and looked into the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as those young enough to still be living at home. Seeing as how it was still so early, he wasn't surprised to see everyone wrapped in their robes and house slippers.

As Remus stepped out of the floo behind him, Mrs. Weasley immediately engulfed Harry in a hug. Harry couldn't help thinking that her normally warm embrace suddenly felt rather oppressive. The flood of emotion from her made Harry feel as if it would drown him, and his lungs constricted as he suddenly struggled to draw breath. Harry was thankful when she backed away, because he doubted he could have withstood the suffocating feeling a second longer.

"Harry, it's so nice to see you, dear!" She patted him on the cheek, and although he tried to smile, it came out more like a grimace. But she didn't seem to notice. "You don't look nearly as peaky as you normally do during the summer – I'm glad to see Severus was feeding you, at least." She pulled him into another hug, and Harry couldn't help flinching.

"Mum, let him breathe!" he heard, and suddenly Ron was there, gently prying her off. "Hey Harry," he said with a smile, giving him a meaningful look as though they were sharing a great joke between them. "We heard you'd been sent to live with the greasy dungeon bat—"

"So is it true, Harry?" interrupted Fred.

"Does he _really_ wash his hair with cooking oil?" George asked.

"And brush his teeth with old coffee grounds?"

"And have a picture of Moldy-Voldy tattooed on his-?"

" _Boys,"_ Mr. Weasley interjected. "That's enough. It's good to see you, Harry," he said, shaking Harry's hand and either ignoring – or not noticing – that Harry's wrist suddenly felt like it had gone completely boneless.

Ginny's soft brown eyes connected with his, and when she didn't approach him, Harry thought she looked a bit hesitant. He was extremely grateful when she simply waved and said, "Hi, Harry." He didn't think he could stomach being touched by another person at the moment. It was just too painful.

"Erm… Hi," Harry mumbled, glancing briefly at everyone's happy faces before staring once again at the floor. Although he was glad to see them, Harry honestly wanted nothing more than to disappear into the dark attic where there would be no one there to bother him, except maybe the family's ghoul.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Remus and said, "Well… I know it's still dark, but dawn is almost here. How about an early breakfast?"

"Sure, Molly. Harry and I would appreciate that. Thank you."

Mrs. Weasley immediately went to work, throwing over her shoulder, "Will Dumbledore be joining us?"

"No," Remus sighed. "I know you must have already heard, but it's been a very long night, and the headmaster has called some emergency meetings at the Ministry."

"Seeing how they feel about him at the moment, I'm sure it's not going to be easy for Dumbledore," Author added wearily, following his wife and Remus into the kitchen.

The remaining Weasleys' eyes were on him in an instant, and suddenly Harry felt like a defenseless muggle in a pack of hungry Dementors.

"What happened, Harry? What's Dumbledore going to the Ministry for?"" Ron asked.

"You must have _all_ the inside information after staying with Snape!" said Fred elatedly.

"C'mon Harry, spill it!" George urged excitedly.

Harry was at a loss. He knew exactly as much as they did – probably less. But he realized with a jolt that even if he had known anything, the last thing he would do is talk about it. Not after everything Snape had done for him. _Not after tonight…_

"I… I honestly don't know what's happened."

" _What?"_ Ron asked incredulously. "C'mon, Harry… you were in the monster's lair! The man who spends half of his time cozied up to You-Know-Who! You must know _something!"_ There was a murmur of assent from the others.

"I don't. Remus and I were out all day, then Snape came home in a right state—"

"About what?" George asked.

"Was he with You-Know-Who?" Fred probed.

"I… I don't… I mean… I _guess_ —"

"Well, did your scar hurt or anything?" Ron insisted. "You-Know-Who must have something major in the works for _Dumbledore_ to go to the _Ministry_! The Ministry hates him, it's all dad talks about when he comes home from work these days."

"Ron…" Ginny suddenly spoke up, a warning tone in her voice. She seemed to know that something wasn't right, and she glanced warily at Harry out of the corner of her eye. "Just leave it alone, alright? Harry's got enough going—"

"But— _c'mon,_ Harry! You've got to know _something._ We're your friends—" Ron persisted.

"I don't—" Harry tried to interject, but he was interrupted once again.

"You can trust us—" Said Fred.

"We won't tell anybody!" Finished George.

" _I don't know anything, ok_? Just—Leave me alone!" Harry practically shouted. Then he stormed into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair at the table between Remus and Mrs. Weasley, hoping that the presence of the adults would thwart any more interrogation attempts. The adults continued their conversation, and although Harry was so absorbed in his own tumultuous thoughts to pay much attention, he did notice Remus glancing at him with an odd expression on his face.

The younger Weasleys trickled into the kitchen a few minutes later, but Harry refused to meet their wary looks. They were obviously worried over his outburst, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Harry was still numb about everything that had happened with Snape, and if he thought too much or too hard about it, an aching, empty hollow opened deep inside him, and that void seemed to quickly fill with resentment.

It was just safer not to think…

"Harry, aren't you hungry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

With a jolt Harry realized there was a steaming plate of food in front of him. _Where did that come from?_ Everyone around him was almost finished with their breakfasts, so it must have been there for a while.

"Oh… Um…" He picked up his fork and pushed his eggs around. Looking up, he saw that Mrs. Weasley's eyes were still on him, so he ate a small bite. The food was like ash in his mouth, but he choked it down. Mrs. Weasley smiled and looked away.

"Harry can stay as long as he'd like," Mr. Weasley was saying. "We'll strengthen the wards and place more protective enchantments around while he's here. Did Snape say how You-Know-Who found—"

Harry dropped his fork with a clatter, and all eyes turned to him. He didn't know what was wrong with him. But he couldn't stand to hear about Snape, or be in anyone's presence a second longer.

"May I be excused?" he muttered, rising for the table and not really waiting for an answer. "I'm really tired."

He thought he saw a worried look pass between Remus and Mrs. Weasley, but he was already hurrying toward the stairs and didn't stop to give it much thought.

A pale gray dawn was just starting to break over the dark horizon as Harry reached Ron's bedroom. Seeing his cot in its normal spot, Harry threw himself onto it and turned immediately toward the wall. If he was lucky, everyone would believe his lie about being tired and leave him alone for a while.

Staring at nothing, Harry tried desperately to force the memories of the past few days and the feelings they had fostered within him from his mind. It was going to be hard again getting used to the fact that he was unwanted, especially after the hope he'd allowed to blossom within him.

As much as he loved the Weasleys, being here was a constant, agonizingly painful reminder of just what exactly had been robbed from him by Voldemort and then by the cruel hand of fate.

Never knowing had been one thing.

But knowing and having it ripped forcibly away was like throwing acid on his raw, bleeding heart.

Harry didn't even try to wipe away the tears as he lay in the tiny cot, feeling smaller and more alone than he ever had in his life.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape did his best to stand straight in the line of Death Eaters awaiting the Dark Lord. Although he'd attempted a Scourgify on himself and had tossed down a quick sobering potion when he'd felt the burning of the mark, he knew he probably still reeked of liquor. Not surprising after a solid ten days of binge-drinking. But after Potter's departure the house just wasn't the same. Especially because the dreams of his father had returned with a vengeance, and drinking himself into a few hours of oblivion was the only way he was able to get any rest, inadequate though it was.

He was actually quite grateful for the time that the Dark Lord had kept them all waiting; the ache in both his feet and lower back gave him something other than his exhaustion to focus on; the quiet room filled with nothing but the nervous rustling of robes gave him time to sober up. The Dark Lord would _not_ be happy to find him falling down drunk like he had been these past few days.

A few moments later, a hidden door on the other side of the room opened, and the Dark Lord emerged. "You may sit," he called to the gathered Death Eaters, and they all hurried to do so around the massive, highly polished black table that the Malfoys obviously used when throwing lavish dinner parties.

It was then that the others noticed that another had followed the Dark Lord from his chambers. Bellatrix padded barefoot behind her beloved master, looking smug and wearing nothing but a black, lacy house robe. She finished tying it around the middle and as she looked up, Snape couldn't help but notice her disheveled appearance – flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair even more wild and untidy than normal.

It was suddenly obvious why the rest of them had been kept waiting for so long.

The hussy must have greatly pleased her master, for him to allow her to dress so scantily for a meeting of his Death Eaters. Bellatrix caught Snape looking at her and smirked as she licked her lips, glancing once more at her beloved lord. He had a very difficult time suppressing his revulsion.

Unfortunately it was at that exact moment that the Dark Lord finally spoke, almost catching him off guard when he addressed him directly.

"Severus. Any word on the whereabouts of Harry Potter? There must have been _some_ discussion amongst the Hogwarts staff about where the boy might be."

It was with quick consideration and very sensitive intuition that Snape realized he was being tested. He could _feel_ it. Snape could tell that the Dark Lord knew something and was assessing his loyalty – no thanks to Bellatrix, he was sure.

Trying desperately to hide his sudden terror at the thought of revealing Harry's location behind his shields, he murmured slowly, "Indeed, My Lord. I have reason to believe that the boy is staying with the Weasleys."

"Ah," The Dark Lord said with a sardonic smile. "The blood traitors."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Pity that one of the dwindling pure-blood families thinks so highly of muggles and mudbloods. We will have to do our utmost to rehabilitate those beliefs, shall we not?" When the Dark Lord me his gaze expectantly, Snape was forced to slowly smile, as if relishing the idea.

"Dumbledore feels he will be safe there since there are multiple members of the family that are known Order members. There have been many wards and enchantments put into place, although the details have not been discussed with me." He prayed fervently to whatever God that would listen that the lie about the wards was true.

"Good, my slippery friend," the Dark Lord murmured. "Continue listening. Once we know more, we shall make our move." Snape's heart stopped dead in his chest, and he had a difficult time drawing breath. But at the Dark Lord's next words, his heart restarted with a painful, frenzied rhythm.

With long, bone-like fingers stroking his chin in thought, the Dark Lord addressed the rest of the group. "In the meantime, I want eyes on the Weasley residence around the clock. Is that understood?"

A murmur of, "Yes, My Lord," echoed around the table.

"We'll acquire Potter for you, My Lord!" Bellatrix uttered with unmistakable worship, and the Dark Lord's gaze flicked to her for a moment, approval clear in his eyes. Then his gaze fell upon her brother-in-law, hunched in his seat at the far end of the table.

"Lucius." It came out sounding like a hiss.

The man visibly jumped, and even through his panic, Snape watched as Malfoy's already pale face drained of color beneath the eye patch covering his ghastly wound. Even with magic to help treat it, the scar was still a vivid, angry welt covering one half of his face above and below the dark eye patch. It appeared from nowhere beneath the man's silvery hairline and ebbed away beneath the curve of his chin. Snape knew from experience that the scar would be there for life, as no glamour was powerful enough to cover that amount of dark magic. And his eyesight in the damaged eye was more than likely lost forever.

He rather pitied the man as Lucius stuttered, "M…My Lord?"

" _You_ shall give me the reports on whatever our watchful friends find out about the Potter boy and the muggle-lovers. I shall expect to see you daily for a detailed account."

"Y…Yes, of course M…My Lord."

"Good. You shall also take first watch tonight. Although," he murmured as a cruel smile spread across his lipless, snake-like features, "expecting a one-eyed spy to gather any _useful_ information is quite reminisce of me. The blood-traitors could practically dance away and you may not even see it!" The Dark Lord laughed, and the assembled Death Eaters sniggered at the deflated man who, until recently, was one of the highest ranking among them.

"Take Wormtail with you," the Dark Lord threw over his shoulder as he rose and headed back the way he came. Bellatrix followed closely behind him, throwing haughty, self-satisfied glances at the others as she passed.

As the door at the far end of the hall closed behind them, Snape had to forcibly keep himself from sprinting out of the room. He had to get to Dumbledore – _now._ The Dark Lord knew exactly where Harry was, and the Burrow was no longer safe.

. . . . .

"You have to move him! _Tonight!_ " Snape paced in agitation in front of the headmaster's desk, repeatedly running a hand through his hair. _How could the old coot sit there, and be so… so damn CALM_ _about this?!_

"And where would you suggest we place him, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he watched Snape pacing his office like a caged, riled animal. "Even with the blood wards, he is not exactly protected at his relatives. And as much as I'd hoped otherwise, keeping him with you did not provide a safe harbor for the boy, either."

Snape paused in his pacing, finally throwing himself in a chair and letting his head drop into his hands. As true as the headmaster's words were, they were still extremely difficult to accept. But the old wizard ploughed on, not caring how much his words stung. "At this point it is the lesser of two evils, Severus. We knew we wouldn't be able to hide him forever, especially after he left his aunt and uncle's home. As of this moment, there truly is no place that Harry is completely safe."

"Then bring him here, to Hogwarts!" Snape couldn't completely keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

Dumbledore serenely folded his long fingers in front of him on the desk. _He's talking to me as if I am no more than a willful student instead of a terrified fath—a worried ex-guardian._

"You know I cannot do that, Severus," the headmaster reminded him gently. "The only reason the school is safe during the school year is because of my presence, as much as it both pains and humbles me to admit that fact. But I must use this limited time to research how to defeat Voldemort once and for all. I am constantly on the move, as well you know. And the places I go are not appropriate, nor are theysafe for any student – _especially_ Harry."

"So that's it, then?" Snape seethed as he jumped from his chair once again. Anger at the headmaster, at the Dark Lord, at _himself,_ was mercilessly tormenting and playing on his fears. Each horrifying visualization of what could happen to Harry was more horrific than the last.

The distress inside him caused his words to come out in an accusatory shout. "You're telling me that the savior of the wizarding world must simply _sit and hope_ that the darkest, most powerful wizard of the age doesn't figure out a way to slither through the wards?! That I'm supposed to just hurry home like a good little spy and leave the planning to the rest of you? _NO!_ That's not how this works!"

"Have a little faith, Severus. I think I've earned that much. You have my word that I will do all in my, if I do say so myself, very immense power to protect Harry."

" _THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"_ Snape roared, slamming his hand down on the desk and glaring down at the headmaster, wishing – just for a moment – that he was powerful enough to make the old man suffer like he was suffering.

Dumbledore rose slowly from his desk, straightening himself to his full height. As aged as he was, his power was still undeniable. It rolled off him in electric waves, rustling and charging the very air around them. But Snape refused to back down.

"You overstep your bounds, Severus," the old man murmured, his eyes flashing ever so slightly in warning. "You forget who I am, and that we are all just pawns in the game of good and evil."

"Harry is _not_ a pawn!" Snape shouted, his heart refusing to allow him the safety of retreat although his mind screamed at him to do so. "He is not something that you can just trade away in the hopes of gaining some advantage! _THIS IS NOT A GAME, DAMN YOU!"_

Dumbledore seemed to droop ever so slightly at his accusation, but the power emanating from him did not lessen. "It is, my boy. It is. If I were to be honest, it is my greatest and most heartfelt desire that the darkness of this world could be kept at bay for the rest of time, long after I'm dead and gone. But we must not delude ourselves into believing that, as much as we both wish it to be true."

He was quiet for a long moment as he pinned Snape with a hard gaze. "Harry is a major player in this game of roulette that you and I play, and the very soul of our world is at stake with the outcome. I care deeply for the boy and will do all in my power to see him succeed. But he _is_ a pawn, Severus. You can never forget that."

Snape took a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair. His mind knew the headmaster's words to be true, but his heart argued fiercely and painfully against them. As much as he cared for Harry, as much as a part of him wanted to rip the headmaster limb from limb for even _daring_ to suggest what he did, he knew he could not defeat the evil they were facing alone. He needed Dumbledore.

Clenching his jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, he refused to meet the headmaster's gaze as he gave one jerky, stoic nod.

"Good," he heard the headmaster murmur, and the electric power seemed to ebb away like the tide of the ocean. "It's been a long night for everyone, my boy, especially you. Go home. Get some rest."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the old man and barely restrained himself from arguing. But he knew defeat when he saw it, and with a disgusted sigh at himself, he spun on the spot and stalked to the office door.

"Would you rather not take the floo?" The headmaster asked.

"Unless you want me doing something really stupid," Snape growled, not bothering to face the old man, "like going to the Burrow and retrieving Harry myself, I need to work off some of this… energy. I'll apparate at the gates."

And with that he threw open the door so hard that it bounced against the cabinet beside it and broke a glass panel within.

Snape ran down the moving staircase, the anxious dread churning in his gut. He was revolted at his own acquiescence, and he stalked angrily from the castle wishing for nothing more than a pack of mountain trolls to appear in his path so he could work off some of his resentment and self-loathing.

Finally reaching the gates, he had every intention to once again lose himself within the bottle of hard liquor waiting for him at home, as punishment for his failure to protect Harry yet again. Perhaps he would concoct a potion that forced him to purge the alcohol from his system instead of allowing him the oblivion of the few hours of empty sleep. Lord knew he didn't even deserve even that much at this point…

With a _crack!_ he spun on the spot, thinking of nothing more than the burn of the liquid as he tossed shots of it repeatedly down his throat. But as he landed with a hard thud, he was shocked to see not his own front door in front of him, but Lily's.


	19. Chapter 18

Right in Front of Me

 **CHAPTER 18**

 _ ****Author's Note: Lyrics to songs are referenced in bold italics in this chapter, and should be read as if Snape and Lily are hearing them on the CD player. Although these songs did not exist in 1996, they provided me with such a strong inspiration that I just**_ _ **had**_ _ **to include them.**_

 _ **Snape's anguish is perfectly captured by a song called, "In Your Head" by Hymn de Lune, and is the first song I reference in this chapter. The second is a song that I found in the beginning of this story's journey, and I have**_ _ **always**_ _ **pictured this scene when I listen to it. It is by an artist named Jaymes Young, and is called, "I'll Be Good". I hope these songs help this scene come alive for you, like they did for me.**_

After a disorienting moment, it was with a jerk that Snape finally realized where he was.

 _What in Merlin's name…?_

He stared at the plain white door for a long moment, contemplating. The thought of seeing Lily again was extremely tempting – a balm for his battered and anxious soul. But was he willing to bring her down into the depths of his private hell just to make himself feel better? Was he really that twisted?

 _No… Remember what happened to my Lily, and now to Harry. Anyone who gets close to me ends up stalked and hunted… She has a daughter for Christ's sake. Do the right thing and leave her the hell alone._

But as he turned to leave, he heard the distinct sound of breaking glass followed by a woman's cry behind the door. He didn't think, simply reacted as he whipped out his wand and whispered a quick, _"Alohomora_!" He shoved aside the door as he hurried inside with his wand at the ready.

Music played softly from a CD player on the kitchen counter, but there was no other sound besides the low music. The apartment was completely dark except for the low light of a few lit candles scattered throughout the living room.

"Lily!" He called out quietly, urgently.

There was a sudden rustle, and a floor lamp clicked on beside the couch.

"Severus?" she exclaimed with a note of confusion in her voice. Snape breathed a quick sigh of relief as he hurried to put his wand away before she came around the corner. "Severus, what are you doing here? And how did you get in? I always lock up at night."

"I…" He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "I heard a crash, and your door was unlocked..." The tormented anguish of the past week and a half spilled over onto her, and it didn't matter to Snape that she was innocent of any wrongdoing. "You wouldn't have even known I was coming if I hadn't called out!" He lashed out. "Why don't you have any proper lights on? What are you doing with only a few pathetic candles lit – trying to burn the house down?" he snapped.

" _Whoa,"_ she glared up at him. "Down, boy. I was trying to _relax_ because I had a bad day. You should try it sometime." She looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, taking in his disheveled hair, rumpled clothes, and general unkempt appearance.

Snape shot her a glowering sneer. "You may be right," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps I might feel a little better about myself if I decided to burn down my home and all my worldly possessions in a fire started by a nice, _relaxing_ candle."

Ignoring his mocking tone, Lily's eyes narrowed on him once more as if she were seeing him for the first time, and Snape was suddenly wary.

"Are you alright, Severus?" She asked quietly, her gaze softening. "Has something happened?"

Lily couldn't know how much her worried eyes and softly spoken questions were unsettling his very precarious grasp on his current situation. His defenses were immediately up, his hackles raised. So instead of answering he roughly asked, "Where's Jillian? And what was that crash?"

Lily glared at him a moment longer before she sighed in resignation and replied, "It's past ten – Jilly has been in bed for a while. And that _crash_ was my wine glass. I was lighting another candle and accidentally knocked it off the counter." He glanced over to where she pointed, the splatter of vivid red wine trickling down the wooden doors of the bottom kitchen cabinets and dripping into puddles on the floor. In the darkness it could have easily been blood. The thought chilled him.

He found her vivid green eyes studying him as he met her gaze once more. Her regard was both agitating and unsettling with the clarity with which she seemed to _see_ him.

"Severus…" she murmured as the music continued to play in the background. "Something is wrong – don't try and tell me otherwise. What's happened? Where's Harry?"

Harry's name brought it all crashing down around him. His utter loneliness and despair; the Death Eater meetings filled with abuse of innocents; the dreams of his father tormenting him. Snape jerked back as if struck.

 _What the HELL am I doing…?!_

"This was a mistake," he muttered restlessly as he ran a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have come." And he spun on his heel, intending to storm out of the apartment and never return.

But before he could take so much as two steps, Lily had darted past him to block his exit. Her jade eyes were wide with worry as she backed herself solidly against the door with an audible _thump_.

They stared at each other for long, silent moments, both out of breath and beginning to feel the first inklings of cold desperation.

"Where's Harry, Severus?"

Giving her a dangerous look that could blister metal, he advanced until he was almost on top of her. Her eyes grew rounder the nearer he came, but she refused to budge from her place against the door.

"Get out of my way. _Now."_ He growled menacingly down at her.

"No." It came out in a hoarse whisper. But her voice was stronger as she jutted her chin in a stubborn tilt and continued, "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Where's Harry?"

With a frustrated yell, Snape spun away so as not to accidentally hurt her. He couldn't bear the thought of causing harm to yet another person he cared about. But his anger and self-loathing were roaring through him, quickly drowning out any other emotion, and he found himself desperately close to losing his self-control. His hands trembled with the effort as he heard the beginning of rain start to drum fiercely against the window pane. Snape tried to focus on the sound of the drops beating against the concrete outside, which he could clearly hear through the bit of window that she had left open.

Only able to force some of the anger behind his shields, Snape harshly ground out, "Harry is gone!"

"What do you mean _'gone'_?"

"I… He wasn't safe around me! I was a danger to the boy!"

" _What_?" she muttered in disbelief. "Severus, don't be ridiculous… Of course he was safe with you."

Something inside snapped, and Snape grabbed her roughly by the arms and knocked her against the door before he could stop himself. " _You don't know me_!" He snarled, leaning menacingly down into her face. "You haven't the faintest idea of what I'm capable of."

There was fear in her eyes as she looked at him – he could see it.

But there was something else there too, shining out at him from within their beautiful depths: Determination. Resolve. A strength of will that refused to give up.

It shook him to his core.

"That's not true," she whispered, her panted breaths whispering over his face. Lily refused to break eye contact or push him away, even though she was trembling. "You may not like to admit it, but I _do_ know you, Severus. And as much as you try to deny it, you're a good man."

"Stop," he ground out, unsure if it was a command or a pitiful, pleading request.

"No. I can't. _I won't._ I know you're not going to hurt me… I feel safe with you. I know you'll protect me from every danger, even yourself. You're a good man, Severus."

The song on the CD player sighed alongside them, unexpectedly and unexplainably increasing in volume, perhaps another show of unintentional magic. The melody swirled and captivated Snape within its lyrics. _**"Pulled into another state of time… My heart…"**_

Snape let his head drop until his forehead touched Lily's. Eyes closed, he breathed in the mingled scent of lavender on her skin and heady red wine on her breath. His fingers gentled on her arms, brushing along her soft skin as he stroked his way down to grasp her hands. Her breath hitched in her throat at the touch, and she intertwined her fingers with his.

" _ **Try to keep the wolf I hide inside… My secret pride… I'm in your head, I'm in your head, I'm in your head…"**_

 _Lily – his Lily – grasping tightly onto his hands, searching his face for the boy she once knew. Begging. Beseeching. "Please, Sev. Don't go down this dark path. You're a good man. Come back to me…"_

 _His weak mother, for once holding strongly into his small, battered hands as she got to her knees to look him in the eye. "Don't fight him, Severus. Just let him do it. He has a problem. But he's a good man, really…"_

 _His malicious father, clamping down on both of his small hands, crushing them within one of his massive fists. He struggled within his father's grip, but he was an undersized five-year-old boy, and his father was so much bigger…_

" _You'll be a man when I'm done with you."_

"NOOO!" Snape shoved himself away from Lily, his hands grasping either side of his head as if he could somehow force the reviled memories from his mind.

Lily pursued him down the hallway, grasping tightly onto his wrists and trying to pull his fists away from his temples. "Severus! It's alright! _Please,_ Severus – I'm here. Come back to me."

But Snape couldn't be in her presence a second longer – he couldn't bear her goodness, her innocence, her acceptance. It was too much, too painful, like a blind man suddenly ripped away from the comforting darkness and thrown out into the harsh desert sunlight.

He had to get away.

Thrusting her aside, he stumbled to the door and threw it open, lurching out into the hallway to the door leading to the emergency staircase. Lily was calling his name, but he couldn't stop. He was a man possessed, a tiny child being hunted by a massive predator. Her sweet voice made him feel as if he would be caught by the beast at any moment. He kept running and didn't look back.

Snape staggered through the front door to the apartments and out into the empty street, the heavy rain mingling with his strangling tears. He stood in the downpour, welcoming the cold soaking of his hair and skin, praying it would numb the rage and pain and fear swirling inside his soul.

Snape tilted his face up to the sky, letting the rain wash away all feeling. If he was honest with himself, he could no longer see a point to this existence. This utterly unfair, excruciating life filled with nothing but loneliness and grief.

His arms wrapped around his middle, holding tightly to his writhing soul as he gasped for breath. He wanted to end it. He wanted to die…

But in that moment, a song rose clearly out of the darkness and drifted down to him. He realized he wasn't far from Lily's open window, and it was as if the music was sung by an unearthly, heavenly presence.

" _ **I thought I saw the devil, this morning… Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue… With the warning to help me see myself clearer… I never meant to start a fire, I never meant to make you bleed… I'll be a better man today."**_

Snape closed his eyes, seeking something so unfamiliar, he could not put a name to it. But he knew without any doubt that he was at a crossroads. This was a moment of judgment – of himself, of others, he wasn't sure. Both perhaps. But he knew that in this moment, he had to make a choice between his painful, abusive past or a possible future filled with love and forgiveness.

" _ **My past has tasted bitter for years now, so I wield an iron fist… Grace is just weakness, or so I've been told. I've been cold, I've been merciless… But the blood on my hands scares me to death… Maybe I'm waking up today…"**_

Lily's face suddenly materialized in his mind, laughing joyfully at something he could not see. He thought at first that it was _his_ Lily, but realized with a jolt when her face turned his way that it was the beautiful, loving woman upstairs that he was actually seeing.

" _ **I'll be good, I'll be good. And I'll love the world like I should. Yeah… I'll be good, I'll be good. For all of the time… That I never could."**_

And in that moment, he knew with every fiber of his being what he must do. He had made his choice.

Heart pounding, Snape rushed up the stairs and found himself in front of Lily's door. He didn't slow his pace, and the door easily gave way beneath his hand – whether because of magic or because she hadn't locked it, he would never know.

Lily was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest. But as he entered, she rose hastily to her feet with wide eyes.

Snape's robes were plastered heavily to his body, but he didn't care. He strode purposefully to her, taking her face in his hands and threading his long fingers through her hair as their lips met. She sighed beneath him as her arms came up and wound themselves around his neck, pulling him close. He could feel the heat of her small body through the wet fabric.

" _ **I'll be good, I'll be good... For all of the light that I shut out. For all of the innocent things that I've doubt. For all of the bruises that I've caused and the tears. For all of the things that I've done… All… these… years…"**_

A damn broke within him. The peace, the calmness, the acceptance she offered flooded his insides, and he suddenly couldn't get enough. Snape pressed her curves to him, molding her softness to his hard chest. Lily's tongue flicked out to gently whisper against his lips, and with a growl he lifted her and pressed her fiercely against the wall.

Wrapping her long, lithe legs around his waist, her fingers wrapped themselves in his hair and she tugged his head back with a delicious pull, breaking his hold on her. "The bedroom," she managed to purr, and then her mouth crashed down on his once again.

Snape easily carried her to the master suite, refusing to let go even as he put her down and she struggled to remove his wet robes. A moan escaped him as Lily's small, warm hands found his flesh, her palms pressing against his chest as his heart beat frantically beneath her touch.

Pushing the mass of wet fabric over his head, she clenched fistfuls of his hair again and brought his head down to meet her lips.

As their bodies melded and intertwined, Snape found something that he believed he would never find again, not after the torment that he'd repeatedly experienced throughout his life, making him believe that he was unworthy.

That night Lily showed him that even after everything he'd been guilty of, after every horrible thing he'd done and had been done to him, he was worthy and deserving of love.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

 _ ****Author's Note: Alright peeps… As you may have noticed, Snape now has a love-interest. And for the life of me, I can't bring myself to apologize for it. :} Some people have not reacted with the warm-fuzzies that it gives me, and that's totally ok! You're right… The canon version of Snape would NEVER be in a romantic relationship. But the canon version was so lonely, and he was a good man that deserved so much more than he got! If you can't find it within your hearts to allow him a little happiness after everything he went through in JK's canon version, then we shall have to part here as friends and wish each other Godspeed.**_

 _ **If you're still with me, then have no fear. The proverbial s**t is still going to hit the fan, as we are far from being done with this angst-ridden story. It's just that now, Snape has an even greater reason for trying to make the world a better place. And c'mon, don't you think he deserves a little love after all the heartache he's suffered?**_

 _ **Thanks for sticking with me! :]**_

Snape was extremely well-rested as he drifted slowly back into conscious reality. It was a wonderfully odd, refreshing feeling that he wasn't familiar with. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so restored… Perhaps never.

Snape's grasp tightened around the woman sleeping in his arms. The early morning sunshine filtered into the bedroom through gauzy white curtains, and the light falling over her thick veil of hair and ignited the long strands from red into burning gold.

Lily's head rested on his chest, her palm directly over his heart. Her naked limbs were entangled with his own, her smooth, satiny skin pressed up against his scarred, work-hardened edges. She had long lashes that fanned across her rosy cheeks as she slept, and Snape noticed for the first time that there was gold at their tips. A small smile graced her lips even in sleep, and he knew that he would spend the rest of his days doing everything in his power to make sure it stayed there.

 _I love this woman…_

The realization should have terrified him, made him flee before the shocking rawness of its absolute power over him.

But Snape found it to be the most natural thing in the world, as effortless and easy as breathing. Lily was the balm for his troubled soul, the only solace for his tormented existence. She was the light where before had been only unending darkness. Snape knew he would sooner carve his own heart from his chest than let her go.

Lost in contentment, his roughly calloused hands gently caressed her petal-soft skin.

"Good morning," she murmured after a while. Snape hadn't known she was awake, as she hadn't moved against his chest.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I've always been an early riser."

Lifting herself gently from his embrace, Lily's tousled hair fell over her shoulder as she gazed at him with a softly questioning look.

"I wasn't sure if you'd stay the night…"

Snape brushed the backs of his fingers against her soft cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Tangling his long fingers in her hair, he drew her lips down to meet his own.

"Always," he breathed, sealing the promise with a gentle kiss.

He tasted tears on her lips, and drew back to see a single one trickling down her cheek as she smiled at him. The sight moved him more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. No one had ever _wanted_ him before…

"Watch yourself, woman," he teased gently, wiping the tear away with the pad of his thumb. "You will not like what happens if you continue to cry at my lack of kissing ability."

She laughed through the wetness gathered in her eyes, and grinned mischievously at him. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you lessons and force you to practice more, _Professor._ " Then she hit him smack in the face with a pillow.

Snape's laughter echoed through the room, and he felt like the teenager in love that he once was a lifetime ago. For the first time that he could ever remember – even back then when _his_ Lily had been alive – he reveled in the foreign feeling.

Snatching Lily to him with a playful growl, Snape whirled her beneath him as he rolled over on top of her luscious curves. She bit her lip with a smile as she stared up at him, and the words were out before he even realized what he was saying.

"You are so beautiful, Lily. I love—"

He stopped himself just in time, looking down at her in a lengthening silence with a stunned look in his face. Admitting how he felt to _himself_ was one thing, but saying it out loud to her was another beast entirely.

 _What if…?_

Lily reached up to caress the morning stubble on his cheek, watching the pad of her thumb gently rub against his bottom lip for long moments. "I know," she finally whispered. "It doesn't make sense, but I feel like I've been _waiting_ for you… You complete a part of me I didn't even know was missing." Her gaze finally rose met his own as she whispered, "I love you too, Severus."

Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise and his heart pounded in incredulity as he searched Lily's beautiful face for long, silent moments. But as her lids lowered and her body arched in sensual invitation, he fell hungrily upon her. Snape was still in shock as Lily kissed him back with the same fervent desperation that was washing through him, slowly beginning to erode his pain and sweep it from his newly reawakened soul.

. . . . .

Lily stretched languidly as she rose from the tangled bed sheets, reminding Snape of a well-contented and over-satiated housecat. She was truly beautiful. He couldn't help the smug smile that spread across his lips at the thought that _he_ was the reason why she was so obviously satisfied.

Lily caught him admiring her curves. "Don't look too pleased with yourself, Snape," she threw out in a sassy tone as she shoved her arms through the sleeves of a long, silken robe. "I've been told that my standards in men leave something to be desired."

He glared at her darkly but the smirk on his lips gave him away, and she laughed. He had to admit that he enjoyed their banter. She was less like a delicate spring wildflower and more like a thorny winter rose that was exquisitely beautiful, but would prick him if he wasn't careful. It only increased his attraction to her.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, opening the bedroom door.

"Please," he murmured. "Black."

" _Shocking_ ," she muttered as she rolled her eyes, but with a grin she disappeared with a quiet _snap_ of the door behind her.

Snape rose and dressed in his black trousers and white button down, forgoing his Death Eater robes and wishing more than anything that he could simply burn the infernal things. But with a heavy sigh, the thought of Harry flitted through his mind, and he admitted to himself that he would never give up his position close to the Dark Lord – not when the information he garnered could save the boy.

Walking into the kitchen, he noticed a small stream of fresh coffee dripping into the pot. And there was Lily kneeling before the mess of wine that had been disregarded from the night before. Snape almost didn't catch himself in time, wanting to help her clean it with a quick flick of his wand.

 _That was close…_

It had been a great number of years since he'd lived as a muggle, and seeing her reside this way when there could be magic in her blood just increased his resolve. Snape vowed to get to the bottom of his suspicions regarding Lily's heritage, for he wanted nothing more than to introduce her to the magical world and possibly reunite her and Jillian with their extended family – even if they _were_ the most obnoxiously cheerful wizard family he knew.

Getting down on his hands and knees beside her, Snape murmured, "Careful. There's still glass down here."

"Thanks," she said with a smile, and together they cleaned the mess the old fashioned muggle way.

 _I'll have to make sure I bury this particular experience behind my shields – the old coot would never let me live it down,_ he thought with a grimace.

Thinking of Dumbledore only led to Snape to reflect on Harry yet again, and how much he wanted the boy back by his side. Although he trusted the Weasleys – they _were_ in the Order during both Wizard Wars, and had done a _decent_ job raising seven Gryffindor children, he grudgingly admitted – but still he worried about Harry. The boy was like a deep pool that looked calm enough on the surface, but had furious currents swirling dangerously underneath. He recognized it clearly, knowing that feeling so intimately himself.

If Harry was ever going to find happiness in the turbulent existence he'd been forced to live, the boy needed to be with someone who understood him – someone who could guide and protect him. Snape knew without a doubt that _he_ was that person, but after all that had happened between them, he wasn't sure how he could ever be expected to be forgiven… He wouldn't be surprised if Harry wanted nothing more to do with him.

Lily was suddenly beside him, handing him a steaming mug of very black coffee. "You left me there for a moment," she said quietly, once again seeing more within his dour countenance than anyone else had ever dared. "Where did you go?"

Snape glowered harshly down at her, astonished at her impudent nerve. But she simply looked expectantly up at him as she sipped from her own steaming mug of coffee. With a sigh, Snape ran a hand through his hair and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not used to sharing my private thoughts," he grumbled.

"I know," she said, still looking boldly up at him and clearly expecting an answer.

"Don't test my patience, woman," he growled, turning to look out at the river through the window.

"You know, you're not _nearly_ as scary as you think you are," she said. And without warning she did the last thing Snape was expecting: curled herself against him, wrapping her arm around his middle. After the initial shock, Snape slowly brought his arm around her and held her to him.

"I was thinking about Harry," he murmured, still looking out at the river. "I worry about him. He's had a… turbulent existence."

She tightened her grip around him, acknowledging his words but staying silent. Snape was grateful. They stayed like that for long minutes, both staring out at the bright morning light reflecting off the water.

Suddenly the opposite bedroom door opened and Jillian emerged, tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, dressed in pink pajamas with _'Blues Clues'_ written across the front and rubbing her eyes with her fist.

"Morning, Jilly-Bean," Lily called with a smile as she turned to her daughter.

"Morning Mum," the girl yawned sleepily. "I dreamt I was riding on a unicorn in a forest by a big castle. Can I have Count Chocula for—" But when her gaze landed on Snape, her eyes went wide and a large smile spread across her face. "Mr. Snape! Did you come over for breakfast? Do you like Count Chocula, too?"

Lily laughed at his discomfited expression, but didn't offer any help and simply allowed him to drown in uncertainty by staying silent.

"Uh… Well… Yes, I came for breakfast," he said, scowling at the silently laughing woman. "But I've never heard of…?"

Lily took pity on him then but did not even try to hide her grin. "Count Chocula."

"It's the most yummy cereal ever!" Jillian cried, dashing into the kitchen to grab the box from the cabinet.

But Snape couldn't hide his aversion when he saw what Jillian was holding: a box with a ridiculous caricature of a vampire, a look of eagerness on his face as he poured milk into a bowl filled with a sugary mix of cookies and marshmallows. The character had obviously been drawn by a muggle; Snape was personally acquainted with a few vampires, and knew they all had an emaciated look with dark smudges beneath their eyes and a deathly pale pallor to their skin – not this an absurd tan with an outlandishly foolish look of cheerfulness. The only time he'd ever seen them look anything other than exhausted and bored was when the Dark Lord had promised them a feast of pudgy muggles if they helped him gain power.

"You eat this dreadful garbage?" He asked Jillian in dismay.

"Yep!" The girl replied in excitement. "It's really good! You want some?"

Snape stared silently down at the box in disgust. He would sooner share a heaping bowl of dead ferrets with the school's hippogriffs than eat this rubbish. With a forced smile he took the box from Jillian and set it aside, glaring at the offending cereal as if it had insulted him personally.

"Do you like pancakes, young lady?" he asked with an arched brow.

" _Yeah!_ " Jillian cried. "I order them whenever we go out for breakfast!"

"Good. Because I make _excellent_ pancakes. Would you like me to make you some?"

Jillian nodded happily. "Mum likes to cook, too! She makes really good lasagna. Can I help you make pancakes?" She bubbled in excitement.

Snape paused. He was a professor by trade, but could hardly stand having dimwitted, foolish children underfoot, as it usually ended up in some sort of horrendous mess or major accident that he had to deal with. Sometimes both.

Jillian seemed to pick up on his hesitation, for she immediately sobered and gave him her most responsible, serious look. "I promise I won't make a mess. I'm a really good helper. I help Mum cook all the time."

Snape glanced at Lily, who nodded with a slight smile.

"Alright," he murmured. But before he could give a warning about staying out of his way, Jillian had given him a dazzling smile and thrown open the refrigerator door to gather the milk, eggs, and butter. Then she turned to the cupboards and grabbed the flour and sugar. Snape was actually rather impressed. Most _fifth-years_ could barely remember the ingredients to the simplest of potions. And potions was rather like cooking, if one considered it.

Perhaps Jillian wouldn't be such a nuisance, after all…

"You forgot the salt," he said gently, looking down at her in growing admiration.

"Oh, yeah." And after getting up on her tip toes to reach the shaker next to the oven, she handed it to him.

With a smile Lily said, "I'm going to get dressed. Will you two be alright without me for ten minutes?"

" _Mum,_ " Jillian answered with a huff, "it's only _pancakes._ We'll be fine!"

Snape raised his eyebrows and glanced at Lily, who only laughed as she shook her head. When she closed the door behind her, he looked back down at the tiny sprite, remembering another spitfire red-headed girl from long ago…

Jillian dragged a stool over from the corner, obviously something she used when cooking with her mother. She smiled as she took her place beside him, and Snape couldn't help but smile back.

. . . . .

When Lily emerged from her bedroom, dressed casually in jeans and a flowing pastel top, the scene she found brought her up short. Both he and Jillian were covered with a spattering of flour, and Snape was in the process of pulling faces at the giggling girl.

The moment he saw Lily however, he cleared his throat and immediately returned to his usual hard-faced expression.

"I saw that," Lily smiled as she wandered over to watch, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.

Snape glared at her before addressing Jillian. "So the batter is now thoroughly mixed and our first pancakes are cooking in the pan. You did very well, young lady." Jillian beamed up at him, and he asked, "What do we do next?"

"Flip them!"

"Indeed. Tell me, Jillian: have you ever seen pancakes fly?"

Her eyes grew round as she shook her head, and even Lily straightened as she watched attentively. Snape had a hard time suppressing a smirk as he flipped the round cakes into the air, using a quick non-verbal levitation spell to make them somersault more times than was naturally possible, before catching them gracefully back in the pan.

Both Jillian and Lily made sounds of amazement.

"Wow!" Lily said, looking at him with shocked eyes.

"It was like _magic!"_ Jillian said in an awed voice. "How'd you dothat?"

Snape smiled and dabbed the tip of her nose with flour as he responded, "I told you I make excellent pancakes. Now, who's hungry?"

. . . . .

Lily's hair was lifted by the gentle breeze, and she tucked it behind her ear as she savored another bite of the ripe avocado in her hand. Snape sat with his back against the willow tree, watching her in comfortable silence. Nearby Jillian picked her way through the summer flowers growing along the grassy knoll, leaning down to pluck a strand every now and then to add to her growing bouquet.

For lunch the girls had decided on an outdoor picnic, and sitting here at the park where his life had at once both fatefully ended and just as suddenly began, was incredibly surreal for Snape. It was as if the best of his past and the promise of his disregarded future had suddenly collided. If he were honest with himself, he was afraid it would end at any moment. The contentment that pulsed through him made him feel as if he were living someone else's life on borrowed time…

Lily caught him staring, and she smiled warmly.

"Would you like a bite?" she asked, raising the avocado in question.

"No," he muttered.

But instead of continuing to enjoy her treat, Lily crawled across the blanket to settle herself against his side. Snape heaved an overdramatic exhalation but placed his arm around her waist and tucked her into his chest.

"That's better," Lily murmured, and as her hair tickled his face, Snape couldn't bring himself to disagree. They sat for long, silent moments before she continued, "Now the only one we're missing is Harry…"

She felt Snape stiffen beside her, but before he could say anything she murmured, "If we don't talk about this I'm going to have to force feed you this orgasm-inducing avocado, right here in front of all these unsuspecting people and their innocent children. I imagine it would be quite humiliating…"

Despite himself, Snape chuckled and found some of the tension draining out of him. "' _Orgasm-inducing'_ , huh?" he asked, glancing down at the insufferable woman. "Like at the Farmer's Market?"

"Oh that was _nothing._ I'm known for my abilities to choose fruit potent enough to alert the town Constable," she said, an impish smile playing on her lips.

Snape laughed, a rusty sound that was unpracticed and unfamiliar, even to his own ears. Yet again, she had taken him by surprise. So with a sigh and the ghost of a smile he accepted his fate and responded, "I guess we'd better talk, then. The last person I want… _listening_ to me is the town Constable." Lily snickered and he asked, "What do you want to know?"

She paused, suddenly very serious as she pushed herself up so she could look him in the eye. "What happened?"

 _Such a loaded question, those two simple words._ "I… was not ready to be responsible for another. I was hardly in control of _myself_ , as I think you saw last night."

"Why?" she asked, and after a moment she added, "You don't strike me as a man who gives up control very easily…"

"Normally, that would be correct. But Harry…" Snape drifted off, staring out across the water and trying to gather his thoughts. "His presence brought issues from my childhood to the surface that made caring for him… difficult."

Lily was silent for a long minute, digesting his words, perhaps even remembering the scars crisscrossing his upper body like a web of painful turmoil. She seemed to understand his inability to go into details about his childhood, and she didn't pry. Snape was exceedingly grateful.

"Where are his parents?"

"Dead. He has relatives in Surrey. But you saw their handiwork on his face the day we met."

"Oh," she whispered in dismay, her eyes going wide as she remembered the large bruise across Harry's features. "His _family_ did that to him?"

Snape's eyes narrowed in anger at the memory of Harry's uncle, of the way his cousin… But he shook the memory forcefully away, which was amazingly easy to do in Lily's soothing presence.

"You can see why I couldn't allow him to stay in their company," he said.

They were both silent for long moments. Snape thought of the boy and the danger his life was in. The battered and bloody faces of Pavarti Patil and Lucius Malfoy flashed though his mind, along with the countless other innocents that the Dark Lord had murdered throughout his reign. The urge to see Harry safely back with him at Spinner's End was nearly overwhelming. How could he have made such a monumental mistake of pushing the boy away?

"You want him back." It was not a question, and as usual, Lily was able to see directly into the heart of his emotions, despite the things he didn't say.

It took him a moment to reply, but when he did it was genuine. "Yes. But I don't think he will ever forgive me for what I've done. I abandoned him when he needed me most – I threw him away like garbage." He swallowed back the guilt threatening to overwhelm him.

Lily reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together before she said, "I haven't known Harry long. But his feelings for you were there Severus, plain for anyone to see. I saw them. And if he's as alone in the world as you seem to think he is, then I doubt he would reject an apology from someone that he cares so deeply about."

"I'm not very good with apologies," he murmured gruffly, wondering if what Lily said could be true but not daring to believe it.

"The _how_ of the thing doesn't matter," she muttered, "only the _why_. You care about him as if—as if…" Lily paused, her eyes widening and her mouth making a small, round ' _O'_ as she searched his face for long moments. Then she whispered, "Your son deserves to hear the truth."


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

Harry lay on his back, completely hidden by the tall grass undulating like ripples in a giant golden ocean. The dry reeds rustled and swished quietly in one of the many fields on the outskirts of the Burrow.

It had been the most miserable two weeks of his existence – which was saying a lot considering that he'd lived full time with the Dursleys for the majority of his life. Harry felt guilty and extremely conflicted admitting that fact to himself, especially when he was surrounded by people whom he loved. But it was the truth.

The Weasleys were such a happy, jovial family. Every one of them had large hearts, and they didn't make a secret of just how much they loved one another.

But that was exactly the problem.

For Harry, being around their constant delight in each other's presence was nothing short of taking sandpaper to a gunshot wound. Every smile around the dinner table; every bark of joyful laughter that rang throughout the house; every warm embrace between parent and child, and in this house there were many… All of these loving actions were a shattering reminder of just what Harry had lost in his life – not once, but _twice._

Meals were the worst. Harry usually only appeared for dinner, disappearing for most of the day but not wanting to push it so far that the family thought he was missing and called in the Order for a search party. Sitting amongst the loving chaos of the dinner table, Harry usually heard too little, and would look down and be surprised to see that the rest of the family had finished their plates while he'd allowed the noises and voices to wash over him without taking a bite of food.

But on other days Harry heard too much, and would listen with a clenched jaw as the family murmured his name with more and more worry as the days went by.

"…Harry isn't eating…"

"…loosing so much weight…"

"…snaps at every little thing…"

"…out of it, like he's not even there…"

" _What's wrong with him?"_

"Harry dear, did you hear me?" Mrs. Weasley called down the table, and Harry slowly turned his head to look at her. Although they'd been living in the same house for weeks, he realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually looked her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry… What?" Harry croaked, his voice hoarse from long days of not using it.

"Hermione is coming for a visit tomorrow. Won't that be nice?"

Harry nodded without smiling, then went back to staring down at his mountain of untouched food. He knew that Hermione's visit was no accident, and couldn't decide if he was infuriated with the family for worrying about him, or desperate for their help.

His roiling emotions from dinner continued into the evening and kept him awake. He tossed and turned, thinking too much… not enough… unable to answer the many unanswerable questions of his life. _Why him? What had he done to deserve this constant abandonment and death? Was something wrong with him?_ After tossing and turning while the rest of the house fell silent in slumber, Harry suffered yet another long, sleepless night.

Sneaking out of the house the moment the sun started rising over the horizon, Harry brought The Art of War with him once more, hoping to ease his building anger and plummeting depression within its pages. But, yet again, opening the thin tome had been like taking a knife to the heart. The words within, which Snape had maintained would help him learn to strategize for the oncoming fight against Voldemort, had instead acted as grim reminders of all those he'd lost in his life.

" _ **In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity."**_ Cedric tangled in the madness they had landed in after taking hold of the cup, courageously trying to protect both he and Harry even in the face of darkest evil. Guilty of nothing but being a worthy opponent. His only crime was being considered 'the spare'.

" _ **Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."**_ His Godfather being tortured repeatedly by Voldemort… Harry dragging his friends straight into the mouth of the viper, all unnecessarily risking their lives for a situation that could have easily been prevented… Sirius collapsing through the veil, dying needlessly because of Harry's feverish hero complex. He'd been led along that night like a puppet on a string, and was lucky that no one else had died because of his stupidity.

" _ **Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the deepest valley."**_ James… His father, who had been brave and kind and loyal. He'd died as he'd lived, as a great and valiant protector. But still, Harry had only ever had a chance to know him through the memories of others instead of through any memories of his own.

" _ **Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."**_ His mother Lily, who had refused to step aside, refused to allow her infant son to die even when there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. And still she had sacrificed herself. He would never know her laughter, would never see her smile proudly at some silly accomplishment of his, would never feel her comforting embrace in moments like these when he needed it most…

" _ **Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate."**_ Snape… the one he'd known as nothing more than a cruel and vindictive man who punished Harry for the mistakes of his father. But Harry had been wrong, so very wrong. The feeling of being a true family had been fleeting, but so very real. He'd _lived_ it with Snape for a few precious days. It had not been something he barely remembered as an infant, or something he'd dreamed about happening when the circumstances were right. It had only taken days – hours, really – for Harry to look at Snape as something more than professor or guardian…

He snapped the book closed after that, not wanting to think about any of them. Most especially not wanting to think about the gut-wrenching wound that was Snape's abandonment.

So instead he clutched the book to his chest like a shield – or like a brace for his broken heart. He couldn't really tell the difference anymore…

Harry listened a few hours later as they repeatedly called his name, worry etched into their tone – first Ron, Hermione, and Ginny; then Mrs. Weasley and Remus; and Ginny again, but this time with the twins.

A small part of him felt guilty for the concern he could clearly hear in their voices, and wanted nothing more than to respond. But a larger part of him rose up, the one that had continually reached out to those around him only to be repeatedly beaten back into the shadows after suffering yet another devastating loss. _That_ part of Harry knew that he would not be able to handle their worried expressions when they thought he wasn't watching, or their murmured conversations when they thought he wasn't around.

Not today… His wounds were still too raw.

It was in this borderline catatonic state that Ginny stumbled upon him later on that afternoon. Although she'd almost stepped on him during her search through the field, Harry didn't move, or even bother to look at her.

She stared down at him for a long moment before lowering herself cross-legged on the ground next to him. The silence lingered for lengthy minutes in which neither one of them spoke.

Picking a long blade of dry grass, she began tearing it apart in her hands. Finally she looked over and said, "Ron and Hermione are out here, too. We've been looking for you for hours."

"Why?" Harry murmured. Ginny didn't respond.

After another long silence she hesitantly asked, "Harry, are you alright?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry swallowed back the tightness in his throat, but still he didn't look at her. "No…"

"Alright," she said with quiet tolerance, and she lifted her head so that they were watching the sky together. Her hand reached out and connected with his, and she laced their fingers together. That touch – however small and insignificant – kept Harry grounded when he worried that he may have floated away and disappeared forever. No matter how distant he felt from everyone else, Ginny's hand kept him tethered to the world.

It was in this same position that Ron and Hermione stumbled upon them, but how much later, Harry couldn't be sure. They were both glistening with sweat, hair sticking to their necks and cheeks, so it had likely been a while.

"What the bloody _hell_ , Harry?!" Ron yelled down at him. "We've been looking for you for _ages!_ Everyone is worried sick!"

"They don't have to be," Harry said tonelessly. "I always come back."

"Harry…" Hermione murmured as she sat down on the other side of him. "Ron says you've been like this since you got here. What's wrong? You can tell us."

"Nothing," he muttered, still looking only at the sky.

"I'll tell you what's wrong!" Ron cried, glaring down at Harry but addressing the girls. _"Snape!"_ This got Harry's attention, and his gaze snapped dangerously to the taller boy. But Ron didn't seem to care, for he blundered on, "Harry hasn't been the same since he got back from staying with that greasy git! He—he's obviously done something to him!"

Harry was on his feet even before he'd even realized he was going to get up, but Hermione quickly intervened.

"Harry can't be Imperiused, remember?"

"Well then, I… I don't know… _Something_ happened!"

"What are you implying, Ron?" Harry growled in a warning tone, his fists clenching dangerously at his side. Both girls got to their feet in uneasy silence, their eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Ron.

But Ron wasn't backing down. Instead he only got louder as he shouted, "I don't know, Harry! He's muddling you up for You-Know-Who or something! But you haven't been the same since you came back! It's like he—like he got inside you or—"

Ginny and Hermione screamed as Harry launched himself at Ron and punched him hard across the face, making him double over and stumble backward a few paces. The shocked look on his features when he looked up melted instantly into absolute rage, and he tackled Harry with a yell.

The two of them rolled across the dusty ground, attacking the other anywhere they could reach, each landing multiple direct punches and kicks.

"Harry, Ron!" Ginny cried. _"STOP IT!"_

Hermione whipped out her wand, obviously ready to disregard the Decree for Underage Magic. "If you don't stop, I—I'll _make_ you!" she cried shakily.

But suddenly an amplified, bloodcurdling scream rent the air, loud enough as if it had been over a muggle loudspeaker. All four froze in place and looked toward the Burrow. Ron had his hand in the air, ready to bring down across Harry's face, and Harry was clutching onto the collar of Ron's shirt. But their eyes were wide and everything was deathly silent as their gazes darted frantically around for the source of the scream. Another squeal of pain tore through the still summer air, and this time there was no denying…

"Was that _Mum?!"_ Ron croaked.

"I... I think it was!" Harry murmured, his heart pounding.

Horrified looks on their faces, Ginny and Hermione bolted toward the house. Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and tore off after them, the fight forgotten in their moment of panic.

Reaching the orchard ahead of them, the girls disappeared from view. Harry's heart almost stopped as he doubled his speed. But as he and Ron reached the grove, they were suddenly yanked sideways behind the trees by two pairs of hands that clamped themselves tightly around their mouths.

It was a good thing, because the sight before them tore a strangled, _"NO!"_ from Harry's throat. But the word was muffled by the fleshy hand, and thankfully Mrs. Weasley's fanatical attacker heard nothing.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood before the door to the Burrow, an evil smile filled with anticipation spreading across her lips. Suspended above her was the battered and bloody form of Mrs. Weasley, hanging at an awkward angle and rotating slowly as if on display.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Bellatrix called in a disturbing sing-song voice. "Mummy's calling!"

With that pronouncement she sliced her wand through the air like a knife. Another horrifyingly amplified scream ripped through the air around them as Mrs. Weasley arched her back painfully, blood spraying across the grass.

Harry struggled against the hands holding him, but they shook him hard to get his attention.

"Harry! Harry, _stop!"_ For the first time he realized that it was George that held onto him. The older boy was whispering frantically in his ear, and Harry could clearly feel him trembling as he watched his mother being tortured.

Harry calmed underneath his tight grip and, giving George a jerky nod, the twin released his hand from over his mouth.

"It's ME she wants!" He whispered urgently. "You have to let me go!"

" _NO,_ Harry!" Fred muttered angrily, his hand still holding tightly onto Ron's mouth, not trusting his younger brother to keep quiet while their mother was tormented for sport. "You know we can't do that!" Ginny and Hermione crouched next to Fred and Ron, looking terrified but determined, and at Harry's words their worried gazes darted to him.

At that moment Mrs. Weasley emitted another pitiful, amplified shriek of pain, and Bellatrix called out impatiently, "Mummy is running out of time, children!"

"She's going to kill her!" Harry hissed.

"She'll kill _all of us_ if she gets the chance," Ginny whispered in reply.

"We're not going to let you sacrifice yourself, Harry!" Hermione muttered desperately.

Ron shook free of his brother's hand, and with his eyes desperately on his mother he said, "We can't just stand here! Someone has to call Dad… or the Order… _anyone!"_

"We can't get to the floo, Ron! She's blocking the door!" Fred responded.

"Harry—" Ron's frantic, panicked gaze landed on him. "Harry, you can do a Patronus! Send a message!"

"I can't!" he said in dismay. "I don't—I don't know how!"

At that moment Bellatrix gave a screech of impatience, her eyes bulging as she stared menacingly around her, knowing they were there and hunting for them. Her sing-songy voice was gone as she angrily announced, "You have exactly _ten seconds_ before Mummy dearest get the Avada Kedavra!" But she composed herself after her moment of rage, and called in a much calmer voice, "But if you hand over Harry Potter, I will spare her miserable blood-traitor life, and you can all go back to loving your muggle trash in peace."

Then the countdown began. _"Ten…"_

"Oh dear God…"

"Do something!"

" _Nine…"_

Harry knew what had to be done, and he didn't have much time to convince the others. "Listen. _Listen to me!"_ he whispered urgently, trying to get their attention.

" _Eight…"_

"I have to go out there!" Harry muttered, his mind made up.

"No!"

" _Seven…"_

"Harry, you can't-!"

"I HAVE to!" Harry hissed.

" _Six…"_

He rushed on before they could say anything else. "LISTEN! We might not be Death Eaters, but we outnumber her six to one! When I show myself the rest of you can take her unexpectedly, all at once… Maybe it'll be enough to give us a chance."

The group only looked at him, their eyes wide and uncertain.

" _Five…"_

Harry's heart leapt into this throat. They only had a few moments left. It was now or never… "On my signal, throw everything you can think of at her. Anything to trip her up, even if it's stupid. All we need is a moment."

" _Four…"_

Harry had no time to consider what he was doing. He only knew that if they didn't do _something,_ Mrs. Weasley was going to die right here in her front garden, and he couldn't allow that happen.

"The second she is distracted, grab your mum and _get to the house._ I don't know if we can go directly to Dumbledore, so we'll floo to the Ministry – to your dad. It'll have to be done quick… She won't stay down for long."

" _THREE!"_ Bellatrix screamed, her voice intensifying.

"Oh Harry, I don't know if this is going to work," Hermione whispered in a terrified voice.

"It HAS to work! We don't have any other choice!"

" _TWO!"_ Bellatrix screeched.

Ginny sat crouched with her wand in her hand and her jaw clenched, ready to jump into action. Ron stood beside her with an iron glint in his eye.

"We're behind you, Harry!" Fred murmured.

"We've got this!" George hissed, waving him forward.

" _ONE!_ Time is up, you filthy muggle-lovers! She dies! _"_ And just as Bellatrix raised her wand to cast the killing curse at the crumpled heap of Mrs. Weasley, who lay still and bleeding at her feet, Harry stepped out from behind the trees.


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

Snape sat behind his desk in his Hogwarts office, hunched over the large, leather-backed volume of eleven-year-olds throughout Britain who had been sent Hogwarts letters between the years of 1969 through 1974. He knew that he himself was listed in this particular book, as was _his_ Lily and the rest of their class.

After spending more time with Jillian and her mother, Snape was convinced that she should have also received a letter, for it was obvious that she was not a squib like her father had been. He also suspected that her daughter harbored magical ability within her blood, as the two of them continually practiced unintentional magic without even realizing it. The avocados appearing out of nowhere at the Farmer's Market was a perfect example, as was Jillian's ability to skip rocks all the way across the river, giggling as they bounced twelve, fifteen, sometimes even twenty times before landing softly on the opposite bank. Lily had laughed and clapped in amazement, saying that they obviously had a Bowler in the family who would do marvelously well at Cricket; Snape, on the other hand, was of the belief that Jillian would make an outstanding Quidditch Chaser one day.

After a bit of sly questioning about birthdays (he was a _spy_ after all, and knew how to get the information he was after), Snape was able to determine that Lily was three years younger than he, having been born in October, 1963. As such, she should have received her letter in 1974. He scoured the pages for that year, quickly reading through the information provided for each student: name, date of birth, blood-status, parents' names and blood-statuses, siblings, and area of residence. It was rather like the Wizard version of Muggle Cenus data, all laid out in equally giant leather-bound tomes from the founding of the school onwards.

Snape combed through page after page, refusing to stop until he found Lily's name. And suddenly, after so many hours of trying to puzzle out her circumstances, looking for undeniable proof that she was a witch, there it was…

 _Name:_ Lilith Elizabeth Prewett.

 _Date of Birth:_ October 18, 1963.

 _Blood-Status:_ Half-Blood.

 _Parents Names:_ Phillip Charles Prewett (FATHER, Squib); Marjorie Amelia Prewett (nee: Revell, MOTHER, Muggle).

 _Siblings:_ None.

 _Area of Residence:_ London, England.

Snape had been right from the beginning… Lily wasa witch! But _why_ had she never received a Hogwarts letter, especially when she was listed here in the school's archive? He read the information over again, looking for anything that might answer his questions.

It was only as he read the information a second time that he noticed a small red "x" next to her name. Marking the page with his finger, he flipped forward and backward, looking for any other names with the same marking. But she was the only one he could find with the mark in the entire five years listed.

 _Why?_

Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Snape contemplated going to Dumbledore with what he knew. Merlin knew the old codger was already too enmeshed in Snape's existence, conducting his every movement as if he were the director in some freakish play. That play, however, was Snape's _life,_ and he wasn't sure how much more he was willing to hand over to the scheming old headmaster.

He sat there for quite some time, brooding on other ways that he could possibly get the information he was after.

The Ministry was not an option – he was too mistrusted, his reputation still too damaged from the previous war. He'd immediately be noticed and more than likely followed throughout his entire stay in the damned building. Worst case, Snape would be arrested on some trumped-up charge; best, they'd detain him until Dumbledore could collect him, warning the headmaster to keep his _pet_ out of Ministry business. Either way still led to the old codger finding out what he was up to.

He supposed he could go to McGonagall. The letters to students were her responsibility as Deputy Headmistress, and as such she had to know _something_ about what the mark meant. But that wouldn't do either, as the woman would undoubtedly go to Dumbledore with questions about why Snape was snooping around in old school archives.

With a long-suffering sigh, Snape ran a resigned hand over his face. There really wasn't any choice if he wanted answers. As much as he didn't want to involve Dumbledore, Snape's burning curiosity – as well as the desire to help the woman he loved – refused to let the matter lie.

He knew that if he was ever going to reveal to Lily that she was a witch, her lack of magical education would eventually become a topic of conversation. And if he ever wanted to introduce Lily to the obnoxious, constantly happy Weasleys – which he grudgingly admitted that he did, if only because he knew it would give her great joy – then he'd have to have a good reason as to why the system had failed her.

The other reason he was so eager to introduce her to the family was harder to admit to himself, but no less true.

He was anxious to see Harry…

However, he worried that the boy would be angry enough to want nothing more to do with him. So in a very Slytherin move, Snape had redoubled his efforts to find proof of the family connection between Lily and the Weasleys, knowing that Harry would have a difficult time turning his back on him if Snape was side-by-side with the woman Harry so admired. He admitted that the move was a little underhanded, but Snape was head of Slytherin House for a reason, and he was desperate.

So with that in mind there was only one thing left to do, and Snape was not looking forward to it. As he rose from his chair and headed toward the fireplace to floo call the headmaster's office, he couldn't help feeling that he was only tightening the chains that already bound him to the insufferable old coot.

As it was still early afternoon Snape knew that Dumbledore was more than likely at his desk, so he didn't hesitate as he tossed the green powder into the fire and knelt before it, calling for the headmaster's office. His head spun for a few shot seconds, and then he was staring up at the man, sitting behind his desk peering thoughtfully down at a missive in his hand.

"Headmaster?" he called out.

The man looked up at the unexpected interruption. "Severus! What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

"May I come through?"

"By all means."

Snape removed his head and closed his eyes as he felt the spinning sensation before it reconnected with his body. Then he rose, marking Lily's page as he gathered the large tome on his desk, and stepped into the flames. The headmaster smiled warmly as he came through, and Snape felt his stomach clench ever so slightly.

 _This could possibly be one of the worst decisions I've ever made…_

"It's nice to see you," Dumbledore murmured, sounding completely truthful. "You seem much improved since our last conversation. Forgive me for saying Severus, but you look… _happy."_ The infernal twinkle was there in his eyes."It suits you."

As irritating as it was, Snape knew that in all honesty he could not argue – he felt happier than he ever had, perhaps in his entire life. But he arched a sardonic brow to deflect Dumbledore's all-too-penetrating insight. Even if he did need the headmaster's help, he wasn't going to make it _that_ easy for the man.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Headmaster."

The old coot smiled as the twinkle increased, knowing full well that Snape _did_ know, but allowing him his privacy. _Or what was left of it before now,_ Snape thought with a defeated sigh.

"Well then, what can I do for you, my boy?" The older man asked with an irritatingly omniscient smile still firmly in place.

"You could keep your monstrously crooked nose out of my business, for a start," Snape grumbled, but the headmaster's smile only widened. As much as he hated involving the man in his personal affairs, he nonetheless took a seat on the opposite side of the large wooden desk and opened the book to Lily's page. Sliding it across to Dumbledore he explained, "I was hoping you could answer a question."

The headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles, reading the proffered page.

" _Lilith Prewett,"_ he murmured thoughtfully. "I don't remember a student with that name ever attending Hogwarts…" He glanced up at Snape over the rim of his glasses. "Do you know this woman?" he asked shrewdly.

Snape ignored his question, instead pointing to the small red "x" and replying, "What is that mark next to her name? I could not find it anywhere else within this book."

Dumbledore glanced back down at the page before looking up at Snape once more. "I'm afraid I don't know. Perhaps I should call Minerva. She has been in charge of sending out Hogwarts letters since her appointment as Deputy Headmistress. Perhaps she will know more." And with that he rose and made his way swiftly to the fireplace.

 _Wait… What?!_

"Well… You… I don't…" Snape stuttered, trying desperately to think of a way to back out of this quickly escalating situation. _The way this is going, I may as well post a play-by-play of my life in the Daily Prophet for everyone to read about! What the hell was I thinking?!_

But it was too late. The woman was already stepping from the floo. Snape ran an aggravated hand over his face and glared darkly at them both as they drew nearer.

"Albus, Severus," McGonagall greeted simply, taking the seat next to Snape as Dumbledore settled himself behind the desk once more. "What is this regarding? How may I be of assistance?"

"We were hoping that you could tell us what this mark meant," Dumbledore said, sliding the open book over to her. "Lilith Prewett. I do not remember her ever being a student here."

McGonagall glanced down at the parchment page, then looked quickly back at the headmaster. "Yes, well… You wouldn't remember her because her Hogwarts letter was never sent."

"Why is that?" Dumbledore queried as Snape looked at the older woman in shock.

"That mark means that she was living in an orphanage at the time that she would have received her letter. This circumstance was… frowned upon and highly suspect by the Ministry at the time," she said, her lips tightening into a tight line and making it perfectly clear how she felt about the subject. "Although the situation has not arisen often, those idiots at the Ministry thought that _any_ magical child raised in an orphanage could be dangerous, since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was raised in the same manner." Her thin nostrils flared and her eyes shone with furious indignation when she angrily said, "As such, these children were denied their rightful admission to this school. It is a prejudiced and detestable mandate, but I have never been able to make them see reason."

Snape couldn't help the feeling of outrage and injustice on Lily's behalf. As if losing her parents hadn't been enough, she had also had her birthright of learning magic ripped away from her.

Dumbledore looked as if he felt much the same way, his eyes flashing as he steepled his fingers against his lips. "This is a matter I will most certainly be looking into," he said quietly. "How many children has this mandate affected since its inception?"

"Two. A boy – Alexander Smith, I believe his name was. And a girl, who I assume must be this Lilith Prewett." She looked thoughtfully down at the page for a moment before slowly continuing. "Wait a moment. _'Prewett'…_ As in Molly Weasley? _Those_ Prewetts?"

"Yes," Snape sighed in resignation. "Lily's father was Molly's cousin." _The cat was well and truly out of the bag now._

McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Dumbledore quietly probed, " _Lily?"_

"Yes, yes! I know it's a strange coincidence," snapped Snape, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

McGonagall looked as if Snape had just revealed that the giant squid would be taking over Dumbledore's position as headmaster. "Do you… _know_ this woman, Severus?"

He glowered at her in response.

"But… _How?_ I assume she's been living life as a muggle since she never attended Hogwarts?"

Snape's back was rigid with tension as his dark gaze shot back and forth between the two meddling fools. They were both staring at him with open curiosity, and he almost gave in to the urge to hex them into oblivion and storm out of the office. But as magnificently glorious as that moment would be, it wouldn't help him in his quest to right the wrongs that had been done to Lily.

He sighed in unwilling acquiescence. "Yes, she has been living as a muggle. Her parents died when she was young, and since her father was a squib, she has no idea about our world."

McGonagall stared at him as if he'd grown three additional heads, but Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily behind their spectacles. More than ever he wanted to toss a couple Instant Scalping Hexes their way and flee from the discomfort their gazes stirred within him.

McGonagall hesitated, "Don't you think that dropping something this significant into her lap would… _distress_ her unnecessarily? What makes you think she would thank you to know about something this life-altering? How well do you know this woman?"

"Well enough," he muttered, suddenly feeling like a self-conscious teenager caught doing something wayward. He squirmed in his seat beneath their scrutiny as the silence lengthened.

"Oh…" McGonagall said, suddenly looking just as uncomfortable as Snape felt. "Oh, well. I see." Dumbledore, damn him, looked to be immensely enjoying himself.

Snape plunged on despite his embarrassment, knowing that Lily deserved anything he could do to help her. "And the fact that she is raising a daughter singlehandedly, believing that she is completely alone in the world—"

"She has a _child?"_ McGonagall choked out, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hair. "You are dating a—well, for all intents and purposes, a _muggle—_ who also has a _child?"_

"Careful Minerva, or the disbelief may give you an apoplexy," he growled at the older woman. Dumbledore had a small coughing fit at that moment, but Snape had the striking suspicion that the _coughs_ were actually covering up his damnable chuckles. Snape scrubbed his face with the palms of both hands in a desperate attempt to keep his temper in check.

" _YES_ ,alright?!" he finally snarled, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. "I'm in a relationship with a muggle who doesn't know she's a witch! And _YES_ , even though up to this point in my life I've made no secret of the fact that I hate children, she also hasa young daughter. I'm just as flabbergasted as you are Minerva, but…" He ran a hand through his hair, his voice suddenly growing quiet. "But I care for both of them. And Lily doesn't deserve to be alone. Not when we can do something to help her."

There was a growing silence, and when Snape finally looked up to meet the gazes of the others, he was shocked to see warm smiles on their faces. McGonagall's eyes even looked a bit glassy as she gazed fondly at him – a look he was not accustomed to seeing coming from her. Or anyone, for that matter.

"Well then," the headmaster said into the silence. "Seeing as we've robbed this poor girl of her magical education, the _least_ we can dois reunite her with a loving family. Minerva, if you'd care to accompany us? I believe that a visit to the Burrow is in order."

. . . . .

Snape carried the leather-bound book beneath one arm, as well as a recent muggle photograph of Lily and Jillian that he had surreptitiously replicated with a Copying Charm during his last visit in his robe pocket. Marching through the empty corridors alongside McGonagall and Dumbledore, he had to continually remind himself that the visit he was about to carry out was only to disclose to the Weasleys the good news of two additional, unexpected family members.

He knew it for the blatant lie it was, though.

In all truthfulness Snape wanted to judge for himself how Harry was faring, and if there was any possible chance at reconciliation. The thought of seeing the boy again made his insides twist in apprehension, but his feelings about the boy far outweighed his fear of rejection, so he continued on.

As they reached the Apparition point outside the gates, Dumbledore paused and held Snape back. He spoke softly, as if sensing his trepidation.

"Although it may not be my place," Dumbledore murmured so that only Snape could hear, "I think it needs to be said that Harry's capacity for forgiveness is much larger than you may realize. Just speak from your heart, Severus."

A muscle ticked in Snape's jaw from clenching it hard enough to break a tooth. But he gave a single, jerky nod to the older man.

"Well then," Dumbledore announced, a smile returning to his face. "Shall we be on our way? I can't help the feeling that Molly may suffocate us within her embrace when she hears the news. And yes, that includes you, my boy," he said with a chuckle when Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought of Molly Weasley's arms anywhere near him.

"Remember, the wards have been expanded past the orchard," Dumbledore reminded them all. Then they spun on the spot and were gone.

They landed with a _thud_ on the opposite side of the thick copse of trees. Snape was immediately drawn to the sounds of spells being thrown back and forth between opponents. He knew that most of the wizards here were underage, and immediately dismissed the thought that they were the ones practicing their dueling skills, as he knew they would not risk breaking the Decree for Underage Magic.

 _The twins then,_ he thought dismissively, knowing that they were now of age and making his way toward the Burrow.

But after a few paces, he slowed. His eyes widened in horror and his gaze shot to the headmaster. "Albus… I don't feel the wards…" The sounds of dueling suddenly took on a threatening sensation. Snape charged through the trees, leaving Dumbledore and McGonagall behind, their warning shouts unheeded.

The scene that met his eyes through the branches as he sprinted through the orchard tore a guttural sound of fear from his throat.

Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes maniacal and bulging in their intensity, laughing as she threw curse after curse at a group of teenagers. Ginny Weasley was on the ground, crawling toward another battered and bloody body, her face slashed and bleeding. Only one Weasley twin was still standing, the other collapsed on the opposite side of the garden. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley fought side by side, both bruised and battered, but remarkably still on their feet.

And Harry… _Oh God, Harry…_

He was the closest to the demented, laughing woman. Even though he was still standing, what he couldn't know was that Bellatrix was only toying with him. She was an accomplished dueler and could easily hold her own against a group of untrained teenagers. She seemed to be luring Harry close enough to Apparate away with him, most likely directly to the Dark Lord's side.

"Stupify!" Harry shouted, aiming the spell directly at her chest.

Bellatrix easily deflected, still laughing manically. "Come on, Little Potty!" She taunted. "Give it all you've got. I killed Sirius Black, remember?"

Harry's steps visibly faltered. "Confringo! Incarcerous! STUPIFY!" He yelled, each one deflected with a small flick of the mad woman's wrist as she continued to laugh.

Her eyes suddenly alighting with a wicked smile, she screamed, "Crucio!"

Harry dropped to the ground screaming and jerking in agony just as Snape broke from the trees.

" _NOOOO!"_

And with his vision going red, he charged the woman who dared to attack his son.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

 _ ****Author's Notes: I'm sorry for all the perspective jumping in this chapter. Usually I try to keep it to a minimum, but in this case there was a lot of internal emotions to sort through on either side. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**_

Harry's entire body was screaming in agony, and he was blinded by pain as his body jerked and twisted on the ground. But as suddenly as the curse had started, it stopped. Harry lay panting on the dirt, his body weak and unwilling to listen to his commands to get him to his feet.

" _NOOOO!"_

Harry wasn't sure if the voice was inside his own head or if it belonged to an actual person, and it took him a long moment before he realized that someone else had joined the fight. His long black cloak billowed around him as the man charged towards Bellatrix, shooting silent non-verbal hexes and curses from his wand with the speed of a gun.

It was Snape... _Snape was here!_

Reaching the crazed woman, he grabbed both of her wrists and forced them upwards, just in time to avoid a killing curse aimed straight for his heart. Bellatrix screamed in fury, but the two struggled against one another, both trying to gain the upper hand. Harry and the rest of the group – those still standing, at least – watched rooted to the spot, too terrified to move.

Suddenly a silvery shape flew over their heads past the chaos. A gilded, winged Patronus – a phoenix. _Dumbledore!_

Bellatrix seemed to know that she was close to being caught, for she redoubled her efforts. She was like a wild jungle cat the way she hissed and scratched to try and get away from Snape.

" _Lingua Ignis!"_ Bellatrix suddenly screeched, and a thin rope of fire burst from the end of her wand, coiling itself tightly around Snape. A yell of pain issued from him, and Harry could hear the slight sizzling of his cloak even from where he lay on the ground. As the fiery rope wound and clasped itself around the bare skin of his wrists, Snape instinctively recoiled from Bellatrix, letting go of her in the process. She dashed around him and ran at Harry, throwing an extremely strong, well-aimed curse his way.

" _CRUCIO MAXIMA!"_ She shrieked. And this time when the spell hit, it felt as though Harry's very skin was being ripped at the seams. It was like being hit with the power of a thousand lightning bolts, still breathing and feeling everything while being torn apart by a pack of bloodthirsty, man-eating wolves. The absolute agony engulfed him, and his back arched completely off the ground, his limbs going stiff.

Then the velvety, welcoming darkness overtook him and he knew no more…

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

The bloodcurdling screams that tore from Harry's lungs made the very hair on the back of Snape's neck stand on end. He'd never heard a sound full of such tortured pain, and the fact that it was coming from _his son_ made the searing anguish of the fiery rope still wrapped tightly around the bare skin of his wrists completely insignificant. But as he stumbled to his feet to go after Bellatrix, Harry's bloodcurdling screams abruptly ended.

Snape's heart stopped.

At that moment Dumbledore and McGonagall burst from the trees, alongside members of the Order who worked at the Ministry: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and a terrified looking Arthur Weasley.

They all fired spells directly at Bellatrix. And although she was only mere feet from Harry's body, it was obvious that she would not be able to secure him without getting caught. She backed quickly away, firing rapid spells at her opponents. Snape's arms were still bound to his sides by the fiery rope, but he launched the bulk of himself at the woman to try and knock her off balance and somehow prevent her escape. However it was already too late – the space she had occupied just moments before was suddenly empty, and he landed hard on the ground.

Harry lay only feet away, his face incredibly drawn and pale and his hair wet and plastered to his face. Snape couldn't tell if his chest was rising and falling.

He writhed in desperation, trying without much success to get to Harry's side.

"Harry, oh God… _SOMEONE RELEASE ME!"_

Dumbledore and the others ran to them, the headmaster muttering the counter-spell with a wave of his wand. Able to move again, Snape crawled to Harry's side. _Please God, please… Just let him be alive…_

Snape paid no attention to McGonagall and Arthur Weasley rushing around to those that were unmoving on the ground, murmuring counter-curses and doing what they could for them. Dumbledore glanced worriedly across the garden at them as together they couched next to Molly Weasley.

"She's alive, Albus!" McGonagall called with relief. "Although she may need to visit St. Mungo's for a few blood-replenishing potions."

Snape heard none of this. Instead his eyes were only on Harry, his finger pressed firmly onto the boy's throat as others started to gather around, looking worriedly down at them.

"Is he…?" Weasley whispered, his arm wrapped tightly around Granger, who looked silently down on him with fat tears rolling down her swollen cheeks.

Snape didn't answer, desperately searching Harry's pale, lifeless face with his fingers still firmly against his neck. He couldn't find a pulse, and his breath caught in his throat. _No, no, dear God, NO!_

But then… Thank Merlin… _Yes!_ There is was! Harry's pulse was thready and weak, but it was there. Snape sighed in relief, looking up at the faces pressed in around him.

"He's alive," he murmured, his gaze raking the worried eyes and bloodied faces of Harry's friends. They had been there fighting alongside Harry when Snape had not. Although these young Gryffindors had continually tried his patience and constantly pushed him past his limits, he knew that he would never forget that fact…

Snape removed three vials from his cloak pocket, having gotten into the habit of always having them on hand for the times when the Dark Lord lost his patience with his followers. Uncorking the pain potion and the two bottles of nerve potion, he knew that it would not be enough to cure Harry from the effects of the brutal Cruciatus Maxima that Bellatrix had tortured him with. But it would be a start.

Cradling Harry's head and shoulders in his arms, he lifted the boy as gently as he could and placed the first of the bottles to his lips, before lifting Harry's chin and massaging his throat to make him swallow. He repeated the actions with the rest of the potions, so focused on Harry that he didn't notice the raised eyebrows and growing looks of disbelief passing between the teenagers standing above him.

After a moment Harry's eyelids fluttered open, and Snape scrubbed a hand over his face, finally feeling as if he could breathe again.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

With a groan Harry tried to rise, but his limbs were still too shaky and weak to support him. Hands landed on his shoulders, gently pushing him back as a gruff voice murmured, "Don't move, Harry. Let the potions take effect."

He slowly blinked his eyes, trying to see through the haze of pain that still engulfed his body. His vision finally starting to clear, he saw many more worried faces looking down on him than had been fighting Bellatrix, all silhouetted by the bright blue sky.

So they had been rescued… He hadn't the faintest idea how it had happened, but Harry was incredibly grateful.

"Mrs.—Mrs. Weasley," he said in a croaky voice. "Is she alright?"

Dumbledore leaned into his field of vision. "She will be fine, Harry. Bellatrix seemed to have used a cutting curse, and although there is considerable damage, we got to her in time. She is on her way to St. Mungo's now."

 _She will survive, thank Merlin…_ Harry couldn't imagine a life without Mrs. Weasley's warmth and overabundance of love. It was a horrendous concept that had come dangerously close to transpiring, and his mind shied away from thought.

"How did Bellatrix break down the wards? And how did you get here?" Harry rasped.

"All excellent questions, and stories for another time, I think," Dumbledore murmured, then addressed someone else hovering above him. "Severus, I don't believe it is safe here at the moment. I want to relocate everyone to Hogwarts for the evening."

But at Severus' name, Harry's heart had jumped into his throat.

He turned his head, dazed green connecting with hesitant black.

"You're here…" Harry whispered, and a hushed silence fell over the group. Even Dumbledore went still as his eyes took in the unexpected scene between the once hated professor and his most reviled student. Harry didn't notice any of this, almost in a trance brought on by lingering pain and the shock of actually seeing Snape before him. "I thought you never wanted to see me again…"

"Harry," Snape murmured, but he hesitated for a long moment. "Harry, I'm so sorry. What I did was indefensible, but… I couldn't – I didn't…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair and trying again. "After Bellatrix, I… I thought I'd lost you, son."

Seeing the glassy sheen in the man's eyes, Harry realized with a jolt that even after all that had happened between them, he had never stopped considering him family…

He struggled once again to sit up, and this time Snape grasped him by the shoulders to assist his clumsy efforts. Kneeling next to Harry, Snape held him steady as they gazed at each other. Then Harry flung himself into his chest, throwing his arms tightly around the man. He didn't care who was watching… To Harry, this was _home._

"I thought I'd lost you too, Dad," he murmured into Snape's shoulder, and the man's arms surrounded him.

"You will _never_ loose me again, Harry. I promise."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape held Harry securely in his arms, well beyond caring what others would think. His son was alive, safe in his arms, and going home where he belonged. That was all that mattered. He tried hard not to tremble at the thought of how close he had come to losing Harry that day.

"Severus," Dumbledore murmured after a long moment. Snape couldn't help noticing that although he looked tense and worried, there was a certain gratified serenity lingering in his eyes when he gazed at him. "I want Poppy to look everyone over. I think Harry should come back to Hogwarts with us."

"No," Snape said lightly as he pulled Harry's arm gently over his shoulder and slowly helped him rise. "He's coming _home_ , Albus."

Dumbledore followed suit, rising gracefully to his feet despite his age. "Severus, I imagine that you will be summoned before the evening is done, and all I want is for Harry to be safe—"

"He will be safe," Snape murmured lightly – _firmly_ – once more. It no longer mattered to Snape what the headmaster thought was best for Harry. The boy was _his_ son,perhaps not by blood, but in every other way that mattered. And Snape knew that from that moment on, _he_ would be making the decisions where Harry was concerned, not Albus Dumbledore. As much as he respected the man, Harry needed someone in his corner that put his own priorities and wellbeing in front of those of the Wizarding world.

"But… my boy…" Dumbledore pressed. "Surely you don't think it best for Harry to be _alone_ , after everything that's happened! And with his injuries—"

"He will not be alone, Albus. And who better to tend his injuries than me – _his father –_ a man who has suffered the same injuries frequently throughout his life?" The headmaster's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he silently opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, looked like a giant bearded fish. Indeed, it would have been comical had the situation not been so serious. "Now, as you have pointed out," Snape continued, not giving the man a chance to respond, "Harry's injuries need tending before I am summoned. We will no doubt be seeing each other again soon, Headmaster." And with that, he spun with Harry on the spot and was gone.

They landed with a _thud_ in front of Spinner's End, Harry panting heavily at the exertion of his overly taxed muscles. The boy's legs would have collapsed beneath him had Snape not had his arm draped about his shoulders.

"Easy…" he murmured. "We're almost home."

Glancing around, he saw that the street appeared deserted. However he was still on edge, as Bellatrix had fled and judging by the lack of feeling in his Dark Mark, had yet to tell the Dark Lord what had happened. She could be anywhere at this moment. He knew Dumbledore was right and he didn't have a lot of time left, so he hurried them both to the door but still removed his wand, just in case.

Placing his palm upon the wood, he muttered the required incantations and noted with relief as that the wards gave no indications of being tampered with. Bellatrix may have been able to discover and destroy the wards used at the Burrow, but there was no possible way that she would be able to enter Spinner's End without his knowing – the wards here were of his own making, unknown to anyone else and particularly hard to break through.

He hurried Harry into the sitting room, turning on the lights with a flick of his wand and gently lowering Harry onto one of the sofas. The boy looked extremely pale, and his limbs continued to steadily tremble, twitching every now and then in an involuntary jerk.

"Stay here, and do not move," he said firmly. The boy nodded weakly, and Snape had the sneaking suspicion that he couldn't have moved from where Snape had placed him, even if he'd wanted to.

He hurried down to the lab, gathering supplies and lining them up on his work table. He then summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, knowing he'd need the despised items before the night was through.

While waiting for them to arrive from upstairs, he engraved small names and directions on the potion vials with a quick flick of his wand, explaining what each was used for and how often it should be taken. Then he placed them all into a small leather doctor's bag beneath his work bench, adding an unbreakable charm for good measure and listening as the clinks of glass muffled considerably. Snatching the hated robes and mask out of the air, Snape knew he was running out of time before he was summoned and took the stairs back up two at a time so that he could get Harry to safety before the dreaded moment occurred.

Hurrying back into the sitting room, Harry's head lay at an awkward angle against the back of the sofa, his raspy breaths still coming in pants because of the excruciating hurt. Snape knew the feeling well…

"Harry," he said to the drained boy, dropping to his knees beside him and rummaging through the bag for the potions he was looking for. "I know your body is still in pain and that all you want to do is sleep. But Dumbledore is right: the Dark Lord will undoubtedly summon me before long, and I don't want you to be alone. We won't be staying here tonight. Here," he said quietly, offering Harry his strongest nerve, pain, and muscle strengthening potions.

Harry did not speak or break eye contact as he silently downed each potion, and Snape was relieved to see his eyes slightly clear of pain and exhaustion, life and alertness slowly taking their place.

"Did… Did you mean what you said earlier?" Harry asked after a moment, suddenly very interested in the empty potion bottles in his lap.

"I normally do," Snape murmured with an attempt at a smile. "But what specifically are you referring to?"

"What you said to Dumbledore… about—about being my…" His voice faded away as he continued to look down into his lap, as if he suddenly realized the ridiculousness of what he was asking and knew it couldn't possibly be true. But Snape understood.

"Harry," he said, gently taking the bottles from him and setting them aside on the small coffee table, then raising the boy's chin with his finger. Harry met his gaze reluctantly, and they stared at each other for long moments, neither quite sure what to say.

Snape swallowed back his nerves. "You were the one thing in my life that wasn't supposed to be…" He paused, running a hand through his hair before trying again. "You've been right in front of me for years, and I was too spitefully stubborn to see it." Harry looked away, still uncertain of himself. Snape grasped the boy's chin with his thumb and forefinger, raising his face to meet Snape's sincere gaze. "I meant every word. You are my son in every way that matters, and I will never – _never –_ let myself forget that again. I'm so sor—"

But his words were cut off as Harry threw himself into his chest. Snape wrapped his arms about the boy, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Harry's voice was also suspiciously thick as he murmured against Snape's shoulder, "Its ok. You don't have to say it. I forgive you…" His voice dropped to a whisper, " _Dad."_

Snape couldn't stop the tears from falling then, and his arms tightened around his son as he laid his cheek against the top of his head. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to protect this kind, loving, remarkable boy from all harm, despairing how impossible that task would be. _I'll always be there, fighting alongside you, my son,_ he silently vowed. _You'll never be alone again._

At that moment Snape felt the first prickling of sensation in the horrible mark on his arm, like needles in his skin. He suspected that Bellatrix may have finally returned to the Dark Lord's side, and knew that he and Harry were quickly running out of time.

"Harry," he murmured again, regretfully pulling away. "We don't have much time left. We have to go."

"Where?" The boy asked in confusion, but he rose without question from the sofa. Snape was gratefully relieved to see that Harry was far more steady and awake as he stood, but he held onto him nonetheless.

"Somewhere safe," he promised, lifting the doctor's bag of supplies with one hand while still holding onto Harry's shoulder with the other. He eliminated the lights with a flick of his wand, and they left through the front door once again, Snape murmuring a string of Latin phrases in conjunction with some complicated wand work to set his substantial protective wards in place.

"Hold onto me, Harry," he muttered, glancing up and down along the deserted street, gratified when Harry accepted the help without question. Spinning on the spot, they arrived at the last place anyone would be looking for Harry that night: Lily's apartment building. Harry stumbled on the landing, his legs still not at full strength, and Snape held tight to the boy until he could steady himself.

They had arrived in the emergency stairwell, which Snape often did due to the lack of surveillance cameras, as well as the unlikelihood of the muggles in the building using it, due to the elevator right down the hall.

"Where are we?" Harry muttered. But Snape didn't answer, the tension in him rising as the tingling needles in his arm increased.

"Come on. We need to get you inside."

As Snape opened the door onto Lily's floor, he prepared himself for all he was about to say. This wasn't how he'd wanted it to happen, but life – as usual – had left him little choice. Harry suddenly seemed to recognize where they were, and he looked at him in surprise, but said nothing as Snape raised his fist and rapped sharply on the door. It opened within seconds.

"Severus! _Harry-!"_ Lily said, her smile immediately turning to concern as she saw the boy's arm draped around his shoulder as Snape helped him over the threshold. "My God—what happened? Put him over here, Severus," she said, motioning to the sofa.

Snape lowered him gently down, and Lily immediately smiled reassuringly at Harry, placing her palm against his cheek. Harry smiled a tired but genuine smile in return, the pain obviously forgotten for a moment. Jillian appeared in the door way to her bedroom.  
"Severus!" she squealed. But as she spied his son she cried, "Harry! You came to visit!" And she hurried over to jump on the couch beside the boy.

Lily turned toward Snape as Harry tiredly smiled and murmured, "Hey Jilly!"

"What happened?" Lily asked, glancing worriedly down at the boy. "Was it family again?" But Snape had his wand out, already in the process of murmuring the string of Latin words to erect the same impenetrable wards that he'd raised at Spinner's End.

"What—What are you doing?" Lily questioned, a baffled look on her face as she gazed at the wand in his hand. He did not answer her before the wards were completely and firmly in place.

"Lily," Snape murmured, turning around and grasping her by the shoulders. "This isn't how I wanted this conversation to transpire, but I have little choice now." Her green eyes shone with confusion, and even a little apprehension, but the tingling in his arm forced him to continue. "Harry and I are wizards. I am a professor at a boarding school for magical British children, and Harry is one of my students."

The room suddenly went deathly silent, and even Harry and Jillian halted their conversation to look wide-eyed at Snape. Lily's face was bemused, as if she was expecting him to suddenly start laughing and announce that it was all some sort of prank. But Snape only looked at her, and her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What-? How-? Is this some kind of joke?" She asked quietly after a moment, backing away. "How am I supposed to react to—"

His gaze never wavering from hers, Snape gave a small flick of his wand. An upper kitchen cabinet opened and an empty wine glass issued from within, settling gently on the counter as a bottle of wine filled it unaided. The glass then lifted into the air and floated gently toward her.

" _What the hell?!"_ She yelped in surprise, jumping back and bumping into the bookcase beside the television, making everything on the shelves rattle. She pressed herself against the wood, looking at the glass floating beside her in midair with alarm, and perhaps even a little fear. Breathing hard, her wide eyes flicked back to Snape, but she said nothing.

Snape ran a hand through his hair with a sigh and looked sideways at Harry, whose eyes were just as shocked by his actions as Lily's.

"Harry?"

The boy seemed to know what he was asking, for he slowly extracted his wand from his pocket and with a wave and a flick muttered, _"Incendio Mimimus."_ The candles all around the room flickered to life.

" _Wow…"_ Jillian whispered in awe beside him, obviously not afraid in the least.

Lily looked around her at all the candles, then slowly back at Snape.

"That's not all," he murmured, crossing the room to stand before her, moving slowly so as not to frighten her any further. He gently grasped the wine glass from the air and placed it firmly in her shaking hands. She took it without question, her eyes never leaving his. "Lily… You and Jilly are like us. You're witches."

" _What?!"_ Both she and Harry cried in surprise. She and his son's eyes met in confusion, and a huge grin suddenly appeared on the boy's features. Lily took a large swallow of the wine, her hands still trembling.

"I just found out for certain today, but I've had my suspicions for a while," Snape continued. "I promise I will explain everything, but not now. Now I just need you to stay here and look after Harry. You will be safe behind the wards."

"Safe from who, Severus?" She murmured, and his heart ached to see the apprehension in her eyes. Instinctively he reached out, cradling her cheek against his rough palm and bringing her close to place a soft, reassuring kiss against her lips. She stepped into his embrace without hesitation.

A sudden choking sound issued from the couch, and they broke away. Harry was back to looking like a house-elf again, his eyes as wide as tennis balls. But he had a large smile plastered across his face as his gaze flicked between the two of them. Lily blushed prettily, looking down at her feet as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then glancing up at Snape with a shy smile. He couldn't help himself, and smiled back.

Their fingers gently caressed each other, and Lily looked down at their joined hands. " _My God,"_ she suddenly said with a gasp. "Severus, what happened to your wrists? They look… burned!"

"I'll be fine, Lily," he murmured. "I promise I'll explain—"

But at that moment the Dark Mark on his arm roared to life, and Snape cried out with the intensity of it, slapping his opposite hand over his forearm against the searing pain.

"Dad!" Harry cried, struggling to get to his feet.

"No…" Snape gasped. "Stay there, Harry." He snatched the hated Death Eater robes and mask from inside the doctor's bag, then straightened and looked at Lily's apprehensive face, murmuring, "I have to go."

"Go where?" she asked, understandably still a little panicked and overwhelmed with all that had transpired in the last few minutes.

He reached for her again, kissing her softly, trying to calm her fears. "I'll come back," he swore softly. "I'll always come back to you, Lily." And with a final glance around at his unexpected family, he Apparated to the Dark Lord's side.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

Lily looked at the spot Snape had disappeared from for a few long, silent moments, too shocked to say or do anything.

"Mum, we're _witches!"_ Jilly squealed, bouncing up and down next to him on the sofa. "Does that mean that we can do magic too, Harry? Like you and Severus?" Lily turned at her daughter's question and took another large gulp of the wine in her hand, then came to sit on the other side of Harry on the couch.

Harry was just as stunned as Lily by everything that had happened, but he dazedly answered the excited little girl. "Uh… Yeah, that's exactly what it means. Well…" he considered, glancing at Lily. He'd never heard of an _adult_ not knowing that they were magical.

She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "There's got to be some sort of mistake. I mean I– I'd _know_ if we could do things like... _that."_ But she took anothernervous sip of her wine, looking over the rim of the glass at nothing.

"Well," Harry hesitated. "Not necessarily. I was raised by muggles, and _I_ didn't know. And the professor doesn't usually make mistakes," he said with an encouraging smile. But Lily just looked at him with an uneasy expression on her face.

"Muggles?" she asked after a minute.

"Oh – people who aren't magical."

"And… You didn't know that you were…?"

"A wizard? I had no idea," Harry said. "Well, I knew that unexplainable stuff sometimes happened around me, but never in a million years did I consider that it could be _magic._ That stuff only happened in books and movies, not in _real life._ "

"Yeah…" Lily murmured with a faraway expression on her face.

"Whathappened around you, Harry?" Jilly asked from his other side.

"Loads of stuff," he replied, thinking. "My aunt cut all my hair off once, the day before third grade started. I woke up the next day and it had all grown back," he said with a laugh. "She wasn't very happy about that. Oh, and I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin once, but that was an accident."

 _"Wow,"_ Jilly murmured with a huge grin on her face. She walked around to Lily, taking the wine glass out of her hand and setting it on the coffee table. Then she scooted onto her mother's lap and wrapped Lily's arms around herself. Lily smiled lightly down at her daughter, kissing the top of her head.

They were silent for long moments, and then Lily quietly asked, "What did he mean, _'_ _safe behind the wards_ '? Safe from who?"

"Voldemort." Harry's insides tensed with worry for his father. "He's a dark wizard that is trying to take over our world. He… he killed my parents when I was a baby."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."

He took a deep breath but continued, "It's alright. Now I have Severus. He… We…"

Lily reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I understand," she said with a smile. "His life wasn't the same while you were gone."

A warm feeling spread throughout Harry's insides, and he couldn't help smiling at the woman. _My life wasn't the same, either…_ he thought before he said, "And now he has all of us."

"Yeah… It seems like he's been alone for a long time."

"I think he has," Harry muttered, not sure how much he should say as he didn't want to worry Lily. "Severus is… a spy… for our side – the good side. We call ourselves 'The Order of the Phoenix'. Voldemort has a group of followers too, the 'Death Eaters'. Severus… well… he joined the Death Eaters when he was really young." Lily's eyes went wide with surprise, her arms visibly tightening around Jilly. Harry rushed to explain, "He had a terrible childhood, and life wasn't easy for him – he was really angry all the time. He knows now that it was a horrible mistake." Lily stared at him a moment, then slowly nodded. "Anyway, he and my mom were… close… He turned spy for the Order to try and protect us, but Voldemort still murdered her and my dad. He tried to kill me too, but the curse didn't work and rebounded back on him. It's how I got this," and he pushed back his fringe to reveal his scar.

Her wide eyes took in the lightning bolt shape and she gasped in horror. "My _God,_ Harry! You were just a baby! Thank God it didn't work!"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort disappeared for a long time. But two years ago…" He swallowed hard as he remembered Cedric and the graveyard. "Two years ago he came back."

"So Severus has been helping the Order to fight against him?"

"Yes," Harry replied simply. "I honestly don't know if the Order would be able to win this war without him…"

"Is that where he went? To talk to the Order?"

Harry hesitated, not wanting to worry her, but not wanting to lie to her either. If she was going to be a part of Severus' life, she deserved to know the danger he was in. If Harry was in her position, he'd want somebody to be honest with _him_.

"No, he's not with the Order. He… He's with Voldemort." Lily's eyes widened in fear, but to her credit, she did not fall apart or flinch away. "The tattoo on his forearm is Voldemort's mark – the Dark Mark. He brands his Death Eaters with it when they join, and he makes it burn to tell them when to come to his side. Severus is one of his highest-ranking Death Eaters, because Voldemort thinks he's spying for _him,_ when he's actually spying for us."

"Oh…" was all that Lily could bring herself to say, and even Jilly, as young as she was, seemed to understand the inherent danger that his father was in.

After a moment she reached out from her mother's lap and took Harry's hand. "Don't worry," she said, "Severus is really smart. He'll come back soon."

Harry and Lily smiled at Jilly, but as their gazes met above the girl's head, Harry knew she was thinking the same as their smiles melted away.

 _Please God, let that be true…_

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Death Eater robes and mask securely in place, Snape entered Malfoy Manner and padded across the huge entrance hall to the darkly paneled entry at the far end. He opened the door without hesitation, and although the scene he found there was not as expected and gave him pause, it did not shock him.

The Dark Lord stood in front of the massive fireplace, a mask-less Bellatrix gazing worshipfully up at him as she knelt at his feet. The other Death Eaters were gathered around on either side, all currently turned and staring heavily back at Snape through their masks. Their eyes pierced him like many daggers, but he wore armor that none of them could see, and the feeling didn't trouble him in the least.

"Ah Severus, you're here," the Dark Lord murmured into the thick silence, the only other sound the cracking of the fire behind him. "Come… Join us."

Snape walked serenely toward the Dark Lord, not looking at anyone as he passed – not even at Bella as he kneeled calmly next to her at the Dark Lord's feet, though she did seem to be trying to catch his eye.

"Remove your mask, Severus," the Dark Lord murmured darkly, and he complied without hesitation. Snape set the mask beside him and turned his gaze unblinkingly up at the Dark Lord, feeling far calmer than he ever had in his presence. _Strange that,_ he thought, _since these could easily be my last moments here on Earth…_ But oddly even _that_ notion didn't trouble him.

"Bellarix had some very interesting things to tell me about this afternoon, my friend," The Dark Lord murmured quietly, but Snape could feel the anger radiating off of him in waves.

"Oh?" He only showed the merest hint of interest, still refusing to look Bella in the eye, although he could tell that she was dying for him to do so.

"She tells me that she was able to bring down the wards surrounding the Muggle-Loving family's home, and was almost able to apprehend Harry Potter."

The sound of his son's name on the madman's tongue did not elicit the cold surge of fear that it once had. Instead, he simply continued to gaze steadily up at the Dark Lord.

"And just when she was about to capture the boy, who should appear to rescue him but… _you?_ Tell me, Severus," he hissed dangerously, slowly removing his wand from inside his sleeve pocket. "Just whose side are you truly on in this war?"

 _Dumbledore was right,_ Snape thought while staring at the wand, realizing that he suddenly understood the headmaster and his capacity to stay completely composed and unruffled, even in the face of utmost danger.

 _Love truly does conquer all…_

His gaze flicked serenely up to the snakelike face, and he could feel the Dark Lord trying violently to penetrate his mind, like a rapist in the midst of an attack. He easily threw up false memories of the day that would prove his innocence in the Dark Lord's mind, and could feel him ripping through them like a ravaging wolf. But in a deeper, more protected part of Snape's mind, his love easily tucked the true thoughts and memories of his family – as well as all the new emotions they evoked – neatly, protectively away behind his Occlumency shields.

Having love in his life now made it easy – _so very, very easy –_ for Snape to lie to the Dark Lord. _Jillian's giggling face as they made pancakes together; Lily's sweet, accepting kiss when he admitted that he loved her; Harry staring dazedly up at him as he forgave him and called him 'Dad'..._

 _I may die fighting against you one day,_ Snape thought to himself as he stared at the Dark Lord. _It may even be you that kills me. But you shall_ _ **never**_ _have these. You shall never pollute the best of me with your evil darkness._

Snape gazed calmly into the threatening eyesabove him, knowing that although the Dark Lord did not fully trust him in that moment, the false memories had helped to persuade him that perhaps the allegations against Snape had been false.He could tell that his calm, cool demeanor in the face of the Dark Lord's anger was beginning to persuade him of that fact.

"I remain your loyal servant, My Lord, as I ever have been." His gaze never wavered, and the falsehood slipped easily from his tongue.

"LIAR!" Bellatrix screeched beside him, still on her knees but unable to keep quiet. "You are a coward that refuses to openly declare your allegiance! You fought against me when I could have seized Harry Potter!"

Although he was kneeling beside her, Snape looked only at the Dark Lord.

"Of course I fought," he said with such calmness that he could have easily been telling her the flavor of tea he preferred with his biscuits. "I arrived with Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. What exactly do you think would have happened had I run to your side and joined the battle against them?"

"It doesn't matter, you should have—"

"Of _course_ it matters, Bella," Snape sighed in invented irritation, finally turning to meet her gaze. "The information I provide is what gives us the edge in this war. Without my position so close to Dumbledore, we'd never truly know what he was planning. Do not underestimate the man, Bellatrix. He is a great and _powerful_ wizard, and an incredibly dangerous foe. To give away my position for something as insignificant as killing Harry Potter would be a very rash, foolish, and incredibly stupid move – especially when we know that the boy will die regardless. But I wouldn't expect you to understand any of that, Bella," he dismissed as though he were speaking to an idiot. Turning his tranquil gaze to rest once again upon the Dark Lord he finished, "You, Bellatrix, are thinking only so far as how to kill Harry Potter. I, on the other hand, am here to assist the Dark Lord in winning the war against Dumbledore."

The woman was at a loss for words for a moment, sputtering her indignation. Then she shrieked, "How _dare you-!"_ But the Dark Lord cut her off before she could even get started.

"Hush Bella," he reproached quietly. Even out of the corner if his eye Snape could see Bella's horrified gaze as she stared at the Dark Lord, looking as shocked and betrayed as if he had struck her. Snape could feel the Dark Lord's conviction of his guilt beginning to slip away, and he pressed his advantage.

"And if I may say so, My Lord," he said in a slightly admonishing tone as he turned to stare at Bellatrix once more. "Bella obviously did not tell you of her plans. She was alone, and her actions were very rash and poorly thought out… She almost got herself caught today, and as one of your closest servants, I fear the information she could have provided to the Order – even unwittingly."

" _WHAT?!"_ Cried Bella, her enraged gaze flicking from Snape up to the Dark Lord. "M-My Lord! I only wanted to surprise you with the gift of Harry Potter's life! I – I would _never_ tell them anything! _I spent fifteen years in Azkaban—!"_

"Yes, indeed you did…" The Dark Lord cut her off, petting the top of her head as if she were some twisted, ugly pet. Bella's face softened into a simpering look as she gazed worshipfully up at him, reveling in his touch, but the Dark Lord continued, "And if you were thrown into Azkaban _again_ , what good would you be to me?" Bella flinched as her face dropped, strongly reminding Snape of the family dog that had been brutally kicked after nipping at the baby.

"No," the Dark Lord murmured thoughtfully, continuing once again to pet her hair, and Snape knew in that moment that he had successfully convinced the Dark Lord of his innocence. "Severus is right. You should have come to _me_ with your plans. You needlessly endangered my rise to power – you knew we were gathering information on the boy. But your misguided attempt to capture him could have ruined everything. I'm afraid you will have to be punished."

And with that he brutally grasped the roots of her hair and tossed her away from him, Bellatrix crying out at the sudden pain.

"Take your assigned place," the Dark Lord said dismissively to Snape. "Your continued loyalty to me will not go unrewarded."

Snape bowed his head. "Yes, My Lord." He rose slowly and passed a sobbing Bellatrix, curled up on the floor in the fetal position and weeping into her hands.

"P-Please, My Lord," she sniveled as the Dark Lord slowly approached her. "I am your most loyal servant! I would n-never betray you!"

"Oh but Bella… You already have. _Crucio Maxima!"_ Bellatrix's shrieks of pain ricocheted around the entire room as her body flailed and stiffened in agony. The Dark Lord ended the curse with a flick of his wand, but the echoes of Bellatrix's screams continued to bounce around the room for several seconds. He didn't let the woman rest for long.

"Well," The Dark Lord continued, as if putting on a grand show. "Even _you_ cannot deny that you've been flaunting yourself since becoming my lover. So get to your feet, Bella – we're about to give them a show that they will not soon forget!"

The woman stumbled, trying to gain her footing, but collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Can you not stand?" The Dark Lord crooned softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal. "No matter, my dear, no matter. Allow me to assist you." And with a wave of the wand in his hand, long manacles dropped from the ceiling, slithering and twisting in the air until they clasped around her wrists with a metallic _clang_. Pulling tight, they dragged Bella up, up, up until the ends of her toes just barely brushed against the cold floor.

"Turn and face your audience," The Dark Lord continued, and with a quick twist of his wand, the chains spun her around until she was facing the assembled Death Eaters. Her head hung limply between her shoulders, and Snape was unsure if the woman was even conscious…

"I have to admit Bella that as attractive as you are, you _do_ seem to like to flaunt yourself to an incredible extent. So let's see what it is that you're so very proud of." With another slight flick of his wand, Bellatrix's dress fell from her body and puddled in a heap at her feet, leaving her completely naked for the gathered Death Eaters to devour with their eyes. To his extreme disgust, Snape even heard grunts of pleasure as a few of the Death Eaters around him visibly adjusted themselves.

"Beautiful..." The Dark Lord murmured. "But… I wonder how you would look if there were a few scars that marred that lovely skin?" Stepping close enough to block her naked form from the view of the Death Eaters, The Dark Lord used his wand to carve into the skin directly above her breasts. Bellatrix came suddenly to life, screaming and thrashing against the chains holding her.

"My Lord, _STOP!"_ She cried out, but the clanking of the heavy chains as she struggled was her only response.

The Dark Lord finished with a flourish, and when he stepped away, the word "SCHEMER" was etched deeply into her skin, the gashes dripping blood between her breasts and down her naked flesh. The room was deathly silent, and the continuous _drip, drip, drip_ of her blood against the hard floor could be heard by all, as could Bellatrix's small, pitiful whimpers.

"I'm sorry, My Lord," she moaned pathetically. "Forgive me…"

"Forgive you? _Forgive_ you?! _You,_ who could have easily revealed my most guarded secrets had you'd been caught during your foolish plan to capture Harry Potter? I think not, Bella!" And he raised his wand. " _Avada—!"_

" _NOOOOO!"_

Next to Snape, Narcissa Malfoy suddenly threw herself at her sister, covering Bellatrix's body with her own. Lucius reached for his wife, trying desperately to prevent her from interfering, but was now attempting to get back in line without drawing any additional attention to himself.

The Dark Lord paused, looking curiously at the small woman.

" _No..?_ Why Narcissa, do you have something you wish to add before Bella's punishment is carried out?"

Narcissa threw herself at the Dark Lord's feet, weeping as she desperately plead for her sister's life.

"Please, My Lord… Spare her. She has been sufficiently punished for her mistakes. She will not betray you again. _Please…_ "

The Dark Lord started down at the crying woman for a moment, then stooped to help her to her feet by grasping her hands. Narcissa's continued sniffles were easily heard in the thick silence.

"Oh, my girl… Do not cry. You have persuaded me. I shall spare your traitorous sister's life."

"Thank you! Thank you, My Lord!" Narcissa gasped.

But when the Dark Lord reached out and touched the ends of her white-blond hair, rubbing it suggestively between his fingers, she went very still.

"Of course," The Dark Lord murmured, "there will have to be certain concessions for my kindness. Nothing ever comes free in this wretched world…"

Snape felt Lucius stiffen beside him, and the man watched with baited breath as his wife's eyes slid slowly to her sister, then glanced briefly in her husband's direction before she lowered her head and nodded at the Dark Lord.

"It's settled then," the Dark Lord murmured, bringing the tips of her white-blond hair up to his lipless mouth and kissing the strands. With a slight wave of his wand, the chains disappeared and Bellatrix collapsed in a heap on the ground. Snape thought he heard her whimper her sister's name.

"Cissy… _No…"_

But the Dark Lord paid her as much attention as he would a cockroach scurrying in his path. Ignoring Bellatrix completely, he took Narcissa's hand and held it aloft like a queen as he pulled her toward his private chambers. And although she must have been terrified, Narcissa kept her shoulders rigid and straight as she trailed him.

Lucius lunged forward as if to follow them, but Snape held him back.

" _Don't_ , Lucius. It will go easier for her if you do not make trouble."

"That is my _wife,_ damn you!" The man spat, trying to tear himself away from Snape's grasp as he continued to stare at the door that Narcissa and the Dark Lord had just disappeared behind.

"Think of your son, Lucius!" Snape urged. "Draco needs a father! What would happen to him and Narcissa if you were killed?" The man's face paled behind the black eye patch, and although his movements stilled, Lucius' body continued to quiver as a battle raged within himself. Finally, self-preservation seemed to win out and with a last heated look, he stormed away in the opposite direction.

Feeling eyes on him as the rest of the Death Eaters emptied from the hall, Snape turned to find Bellatrix naked and bleeding, still too weak to rise but glaring at him from the floor. Pure and hostile hatred emanated from her small frame. Sneering down at her, Snape left the hall. But he couldn't help the chill that went slithering down his spine as he turned his back on her.


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

 _ ****Author's Note: WARNING! Intimate scene ahead! Although I made sure not to get too explicit, I did have to delve into the moment because this scene does in fact serve a purpose for the characters – especially Sev. If you're not a huge fan of love scenes, I hope you can appreciate that I tried to do it tastefully, and can look beyond it as just another milestone in the character's growth.**_

 _ **Also, this chapter is a bit fluffier in order to make up for the darkness of the last chapter. But don't worry, we'll get back to the BAMF and angsty goodness soon, I promise. Enjoy!**_

It was late when Snape apparated into the emergency stairwell at Lily's apartment. He'd gone immediately to Dumbledore after the Death Eater meeting, assuring him that at least for the time being, his position as a spy was in no threat to being discovered.

He'd then demanded to know how the wards surrounding the Burrow had so easily fallen, to which Dumbledore had replied, "For months, I have known that the house elf living at Order headquarters has been passing information on to Bellatrix Lestrange. It is actions taken directly by Kreacher – on Bellatrix's orders – that led to Sirius' death. You must remember that, before she was Bellatrix _Lestrange,_ she was first and foremost Bellatrix _Black,_ and the bloodline is still valued very highly by the elf."

"But— _How?"_ Snape raged. "How could she know the exact wards and how to destroy them?"

"Although I have given orders not to discuss details around Kreacher since that night at the Ministry, before then we never exactly made our plans a secret at headquarters. In fact, they were usually discussed freely and in detail, as we believed that it was safe to do so. Kreacher could have easily overheard our past arrangements and guessed our intentions when Harry was moved to the Burrow. All he had to do then was give that information to Bellatrix."

Snape would normally have been enraged by this knowledge of the betrayal that could have easily cost his son his life. But after everything, he was just so _tired._ Tired of the darkness that ruled his every move; tired of the duplicity; tired of the fact that he couldn't just settle down with his family and lead a normal life with the people he loved.

And so it was in that exhausted state that he had apparated back to Lily's apartment – a place he was quickly starting to think of as home.

 _Or perhaps it was the people that made him feel that way…_

Reaching her apartment, he placed his palm against the wooden door and whispered the Latin enchantments, relived when it popped open without any warnings or alarms. The evening had gone smoothly, then. _Thank Merlin._

The house was quiet and dark as he pushed open the door, the only light coming from the candles that Harry had magically lit earlier that evening. Had Lily even bothered to blow them out? Or had she allowed them to burn as a reminder of the strange and dangerous new life that she was now an integral part of?

He padded quietly into the sitting room and could clearly see through the open bedroom door on the opposite side of the sitting room. A small strand of twinkle lights strung above the bed illuminated Harry, who was sleeping soundly among pink pillows and a Disney Princess bedcover. The site made Snape chuckle. Jilly was asleep on the trundle pulled out from underneath her bed, and he realized that it was a scene he might have come across in any normal family home – a brother and sister sleeping peacefully near one another. His heart swelled at the thought.

A slight movement on the other side of the sitting room caught Snape's attention, and his eyes immediately flicked to Lily sitting on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was staring into the light of the candle in the middle of the coffee table, her face looking anxious, and she was so entangled in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard him come in.

"Lily…"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, but immediately rose with a look of immense relief. _"Severus!_ Oh, thank God." She threw herself into his arms, and Snape held her close as he buried his face in her lavender-scented hair, taking a moment to allow her goodness and purity to wash through him. It was a comfort after the evil presence that he'd been forced to endure inside his mind. She was still pressed up against him with her face in the crook of his neck as she murmured, "After Harry told me about Voldemort, I was so worried about you…"

Snape flinched at her words – not at the name, which to this day he couldn't bring himself to use – but in surprise at the fact that she knew about the Dark Lord at all. He pulled slightly away, and his face must have betrayed his confusion because she quickly explained, "Harry and I talked…"

"Of course," he murmured, shaking his head. "The boy doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."

She glanced up at him, nibbling anxiously on her bottom lip. "Don't be angry with him, I was the one who—"

"I'm not angry with him," he said with a sigh. "I just… wish that all of this could have been avoided. I never imagined having to introduce you to your heritage in such a way."

She hesitated. "Severus… I… I think you're wrong about us. What you and Harry are… it's _amazing._ But Jilly and I… We're not. There's no way we could be! We're just… _us._ Plain old us. _"_

Snape's eyebrows raised as he looked at the remarkable woman in his arms. Even now, after everything, she didn't recognize her own worth. Cupping her face in his hands, he hesitated a hairs-breadth away from her lips and whispered, "Even if the two of you were not witches, I'd gladly spend the rest of my days proving to you how wrong you are. You _are_ amazing… And you are certainly _anything_ but plain."

His lips melded onto hers, catching her gasp as the kiss quickly escalated and he crushed her body to him. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her and not think about all that had happened that day. But as he caught site of her small, pale hand tangled in his Death Eater robes, he suddenly pulled away, disgusted with himself.

"I need a shower," he murmured apologetically. "I can't stand to be near you with the vile stench of those evil bastards still on me."

Lily's eyes were hooded with desire but also flooded with understanding. Breaking away from him, she moved to Jillian's room and softly closed the door. Then, grasping his hand, she pulled him across the other side of the sitting room and into her own bedroom.

Closing the door behind them, she looked at him greedily but made no move to touch him. Instead, she made her way to the bathroom, turning on the shower so that steam billowed from the spout and began filling up the small room. Knowing that his eyes were watching her every move, she slowly – deliberately – peeled her shirt off above her head. Then she stepped out of her jeans with her back still to him. Unhooking her bra, she let it and her lacy panties fall to the floor before she turned to stare at him. The look on her face could almost be described as a challenge – or an invitation.

The site of her took his breath away, and the memory of Bellatrix's beaten, broken, and bloody body was scrubbed from his mind, replaced instead with the vision standing before him.

Snape held his breath when she reached for him. Her hands immediately slipped beneath the heavy fabric of his robes and pushed it over his head. He tossed them aside, wishing yet again that he could simply burn them to ash and never think on them again. But any rational thought was suddenly impossible as Lily's fingers fiddled with the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down and away from his body so that the only darkness left between them was the dark anticipation of their desire.

Snape kissed her, and she sighed into his mouth, igniting his passion. With a growl he lifted her easily onto the sink countertop, stepping between her thighs and delving into the crook of her neck, gently kissing and nipping a trail across the petal-soft skin and down to her collarbone. Moaning at the contact, she tried to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, but he grasped both wrists and pushed them up against the mirror, effectively trapping her as he pressed his hard planes firmly into her soft curves.

He took his time kissing her, taking control and directing each position, each place that he wanted to lavish attention. She seemed to instinctively know that he needed this – needed to be in control after having such lack of it throughout the horrific day. She didn't fight him, only urged him on with soft moans and pleading, insistent kisses.

He took her earlobe between his teeth, reveling in the sounds of her heavy panting and soft sighs and allowing them to scrub the horrific memory of Harry's agony and Bellatrix's screams from his mind. Every controlled movement that he worshipped along her skin elicited a sweet, satisfying reaction. He allowed them all to replace the horror that he had witnessed that day, releasing the darkness that could not survive in the light that was Lily's presence.

When he finally pulled her into the shower, it was not only the water but also the feeling of Lily's soft skin sliding against his own that finally allowed him to feel clean, as unsoiled and pure as the woman he held tightly in his arms.

. . . . .

Snape awoke on his side in the early hours of the pale blue dawn, Lily's head pillowed on his outstretched arm with his other arm draped protectively around her middle. It was a wonderfully delicious way to drift back into consciousness, with her magnificent bottom tucked firmly into his front. He could feel every inch of her pressed against him, from her shoulders all the way down to her tiny feet. Their bodies fit together as if they had been made for it. The wave of love that washed through him made him tighten his arms around her, and he lay there for long minutes simply listening to her breathe and feeling more at peace than he could ever remember.

But he sighed as the rising sun began to light the room. He was loathe to leave Lily's side but knew that if he didn't get a move on, he would not have time to complete all he had planned for today. Sliding out from behind, he looked down at her beautiful sleeping form for a long moment before conjuring a single white lily flower and a note that read: "Gone home for a change of clothes. Be back soon. –S". Placing these on the pillow beside her, Snape turned and quietly dressed in the bathroom, then apparated to Spinner's End directly from there.

Landing on the front stoop, he glanced quickly up and down the deserted-looking street. All seemed undisturbed in the early morning sun, and he placed his palm against the door and murmured the incantations. The door popped open without any warnings or alarms – all was quiet.

 _First thing's first._

Knowing what was to come later that day, he went immediately upstairs to his wardrobe, not looking forward to what he was about to do. Sliding his normal button downs all the way over, he pulled out something that he'd never actually worn before now. It had been a Christmas gift from _his_ Lily – the last she'd ever given him, as the fight between them had been only a few months afterward. She'd gifted him with it in the hopes of breaking him out of his habit of only wearing black, perhaps hoping that it would be the first step in getting his attention away from the Dark Arts. It hadn't worked. But he'd never been able to bring himself to throw it out.

Looking at the dark brown leather jacket, he wondered if he was losing his mind.

Knowing it was sized for a teenage boy and that it would not fit across his now broadened and more muscular arms and shoulders, Snape took out his wand to expand and enlarge the soft, supple leather. He changed into his normal white button down and trousers, then slipped into the jacket so he could finish his morning routine.

As he headed into the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped short. Although he felt ridiculous, he had to admit that he didn't necessarily look _horrible._ The jacket was cut to accentuate the shape of his body, which he had to admit looked somewhat decent when not covered by all those layers of fabric. His arms and shoulders were corded with muscles that he'd never paid much attention to, but being faced with them now he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. Perhaps he was not quite the ugly duckling he'd always thought himself to be…

Making his way back downstairs, he saw that someone had kindly thought to bring over Harry's trunk from the Weasley's. After shrinking it down to fit within his pocket, Snape retrieved the bag of gold that he had given Lupin to take Harry shopping. It was somewhat lighter after that shopping trip but not considerably so, and he knew it would be more than enough for the day he had planned. And so, after setting the wards in place, he apparated back to Lily's apartment.

He heard the commotion of breakfast being cooked when he walked in the door followed swiftly by the laughter of children, and he smiled to himself as he took a moment to savor the _normalcy_ of it all _._ This is what life _should_ be – filled with moments of passion, the love of a family, secure in the knowledge that his loved ones would be safe from all evils. He knew the thought was only a wish in that moment, but vowed that he would continue fighting until he could make it a reality.

Walking around the corner, he saw Lily at the stove wrapped in her long silken dressing gown. He approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and placing his mouth against her ear as he murmured, "That smells good."

She tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to his mouth as she paused in her cooking and whispered with a smile, "It _is_ good. I'm an excellent chef, remember?" Snape chuckled. "Thank you for my flower," she said, and as she turned in his arms a look of utter shock crossed over her features. "Holy…! _Wo-o-ow…_ You clean up nice."

His only answer was a gruff snort as he released her and peered into the sitting room at the kids. He didn't care what he looked like, he told himself, as long as he wasn't recognized today. But he had to admit that deep down, her words secretly pleased him.

Harry and Jillian were playing a board game, and he watched them for a moment. Snape was relieved to see that the boy looked stronger, and his pallor was a much healthier color than the day before. He noticed with a frown though when Harry's hand shook ever so slightly as he reached to move his piece across the board.

Snape walked around the corner into the sitting room, and as Harry caught sight of him, his reaction was much the same as Lily's.

"Morning, Dad— _whoa._ " The boy's face was riddled with shock for a moment before a grin spread across his features as he looked him up and down. Snape rolled his eyes.

"It's a leather jacket, Potter. Stop looking at me as if I'm wearing a bucket on my head."

"For you, it may as well be a bucket on your head," Harry muttered with a smirk. But then more loudly, "It looks good on you! What's the occasion?"

Snape eyed him sternly. "First I want to know how you feel."

Harry's face sobered. "Better. Still a little weak," he admitted. "And my hands are trembling a bit. But definitely a lot better than yesterday."

"Come," Snape said, motioning for him to sit on the sofa. "Let me take a look at you."

Harry had trouble rising as his knees kept buckling beneath him, but Jillian immediately jumped up and helped him to his feet. "Thanks, Jilly," Harry murmured, accepting her assistance as she led him over to the sofa, scooting over to make room for her next to him.

Snape perched himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of Harry. He put the boy through his paces, having him move and stretch in certain ways so that Snape could assess his condition. He was lucky – the Cruciatus Maxima was strong enough to do serious lasting damage both physically and mentally, as proven by the Longbottoms. But judging by Harry's movements, he would recover.

"I think another nerve potion is in order," Snape announced after watching Harry's fingers twitch when Snape asked him to move them each individually. He pulled the leather doctor's bag off the floor and into his lap. "Are you in any pain?"

"No. Well… Nothing like yesterday. I'm just a little sore."

"Like you got run over by the Knight Bus sore, or like you are recovering from a strenuous work out sore?" Snape asked.

"Mmm… More like I had to fight off a Gindylow sore," Harry said.

Snape nodded. "Yes, well… I believe you would know firsthand what that feels like, after stealing a large portion of my Gillyweed." He smirked when Harry sputtered in indignation, but cut him off before he could say anything. "Another pain potion as well, then." Harry scowled at him as Snape handed over the appropriate potions.

"You know that wasn't me…" he grumbled as he tossed back the glowing liquids.

Jillian looked curiously at them both before asking, "What's a Grindylow?"

"Food is ready," Lily announced from the kitchen.

"Let's go help your mom set the table, and I'll tell you over breakfast," Harry said to the girl with a smile. Snape noticed with satisfaction that he already looked stronger, as his knees didn't seem to trouble him as he rose from the sofa.

Sitting around the round table like a proper family, Snape couldn't help but smile at the feeling it evoked. Lily's gaze met his, and she seemed to understand his contentment. She reached out to him under the table and squeezed his hand with a smile. Then she turned her attention back to Harry, who seemed to be enjoying regaling the girls with tales of his adventure in the Black Lake during the TriWizard Tournament.

"He turned his head into _a shark?"_ Jilly gasped.

"You can actually _do_ that?" Lily asked in awe.

"Oh yeah!" Harry replied eagerly. "I have another teacher that's an Animagus. She can transform herself at will completely into a cat."

"Wow…" Lily murmured, still seeming a bit overwhelmed with everything.

"I wish we could go to your school!" Jilly sighed wistfully.

Snape felt that it was a good moment to chime in. "Well, about that… I believe it's time for you to learn a little about the world you come from. I'd like to take you to a very special place today – Diagon Alley."

"Oh wow, really?" Harry said excitedly. "Jilly, you're going to _love_ it! It's filled with all sorts of amazing things! Gringotts, Florean Fortescue's… And just wait until you see the twins' joke shop!" At the thought of the Weasley twins, he looked seriously, almost sadly at Snape. "Do you know how Mrs. Weasley is doing? Have you spoken to anyone?"

"I spoke to Dumbledore last night. She will be fine, Harry. She may have a few scars, as Dark Magic always leaves an unremoveable mark. But I doubt that she'll have any lasting damage other than that. Mrs. Weasley was lucky – all she needed was a few blood replenishing potions." Harry looked extremely relieved to hear it.

Lily's eyes flicked back and forth between them in surprise. " _Weasley?_ As in… As in my second-cousins? You _know_ them?"

"Your _cousins?!_ " Harry gasped in surprise, but a large grin stole across his face. "Mrs. Weasley is one of my best friends' mum!" His eyes twinkled mischievously as he gazed at Snape out of the corner of his eye. "You're dating a Weasley, Dad…" He snickered. "Just wait until Ron finds out."

Snape threw his waded up napkin at his son's face, but Harry just laughed. "Go get ready, you two. Oh, and here are your things, Harry," he said, pulling the matchbox-sized trunk out of his pocket and enlarging it after placing it on the ground.

Jilly giggled and Lily's eyes were the size of saucers. "This magic stuff is going to take some getting used to…"

As the children dressed and readied themselves for the day, Snape helped Lily clear the dishes from the table. "What happened to Mrs. Weasley?" she asked quietly after a moment.

"Did Harry not tell you?"

"I could have kept him up all night asking questions, but he was exhausted."

"Well… She was attacked yesterday by a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry sustained his injuries by trying to fight her off."

Lily's eyes had widened with worry. "Oh… She'll be alright though?"

"I'm sure she's a little shaken. But she will be fine."

Lily was quiet for a moment. But as Snape carried the last of the dishes into the kitchen and she piled everything into the sink she asked, "Am I missing something about you and the Weasleys?"

"Well, let's just say that the Weasleys are… uh… the last family that you would ever imagine me being a part of." She nodded, still looking a little confused.

When she went to start washing the dishes, Snape halted her and said, "Allow me." With a flick of his wand, the first of the dirty dishes rose into the air and began washing, then drying itself before disappearing back into the cupboard from which it came.

"Now _that_ I could get used to," Lily murmured in wonder. She maneuvered into his arms and placed her own around his waist. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said with a kiss. He growled as her mouth opened beneath his, then pulled gently away. "Unless you want the children to find you bent over the side of that sofa when they come out, you'd better get ready too." He gently smacked her backside, promising to continue where they left off at a more appropriate time. With a sassy smile and a pretty flush to her cheeks, she too disappeared to get dressed.

When the entire family was dressed and gathered in the sitting room, Snape pulled Harry to his feet and announced, "Now for the Glamour."

"The what?" Lily asked curiously.

"Well, I don't want Harry or myself to be recognized out in public today, so we're going to change our appearances. The spell that allows us to do so is called a Glamour."

"So you're going to make yourselves look like different people?" Jilly asked, and Snape nodded down at her. "Oh, wait, wait!" she cried, and she quickly bent down and opened the cabinet beneath the television. She came back to Snape's side with a thin, rectangular, covered box. She handed it to Snape, who looked down at the pictures covering it in confusion.

" _Free Willy 2,"_ he murmured, reading the title of the box. "What is this?"

"A movie, silly!" she giggled. "It's my favorite! Can you make Harry look like him?" And she pointed to a boy on the back of the box who looked to be about Harry's age. He had a huge smile on his face as he rode on the back of a massive whale.

He cocked an eyebrow and looked disdainfully at Lily. " _This_ is what you muggles consider entertainment?"

"Don't ask," she said, laughing as she shook her head.

Harry took the movie in his hand and examined the picture, then groaned. But he had a tolerant smile on his face when he asked, "Ugh, Jilly… Are you serious?"

"Yes, yes, yes! _Please_ Harry?"

Harry groaned playfully again, then sighed. _"Alright…"_

Snape set to work on Harry's features, broadening his face and mouth, filling in the hollow under his cheekbones, and making his eyes a bit squintier in shape. Jillian and Lily both gasped when Harry's hair changed color, becoming curlier as it grew backwards into his skull.

" _Wicked!"_ Jillian cried. "You look just like Jesse!"

"That is so weird," Lily laughed, and Harry nodded.

"It _feels_ even weirder! Like I'm wearing another person's skin suit!" Harry responded, glancing in the mirror hanging above the sofa, slowly nodding his head in approval as he examined himself from all angles. He looked thoughtfully up at Snape. "Better than Polyjuice Potion, though…"

"Wait a minute," Snape said in alarm. "When have _you_ -?"

"Mum's turn!" Jilly cried. "Who do you want Severus to look like, Mum?"

Snape's guarded, wary gaze shot to Lily. " _Wait a minute!"_ he repeated. "No. That is _not_ happening."

But a wicked grin had taken over Lily's features. "Oh, it is most _definitely_ happening."

"Yeah Dad," The boy from the box chimed in with a cheeky smirk. "Jilly got to choose what _I_ looked like. It's only fair that Lily gets to choose who _you're_ going to look like!"

Jillian just giggled as she bounced up and down, smiling at the rest of them.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" Snape scoffed at the little girl. But she just continued to grin up at him. After looking at all three of their laughing faces in turn, he knew there was no escaping. He sighed in exasperation. " _Fine…_ But just this once."

Jilly clapped before diving underneath the television again.

"Wait… How does she-?"

She came up with another small, rectangular box and handed it immediately to her mother. Harry the whale boy looked over Lily's shoulder with a question on his face, and Lily pointed out someone particular. The boy's eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up into his curly hairline as he burst out laughing.

Snape snatched the box out of Lily's hands, reading the cover title.

" _Legends of the Fall…_ Woman, I'm going to make you rue the day you were born if you think _this_ is who you're sticking me with…"

Lily just smirked up at him with a sassy smile as she pointed to the blond man with the blue eyes and scruffy face. "I've always been a Brad Pitt fan."

Snape scrubbed his face with his palm. "Merlin's beard, what have I done to deserve this?"

Curly-haired Harry excitedly held up his wand crying, "I'll do it!"

"I don't think so," Snape grumbled, pushing the wand away from him as if it were a loaded gun. "I'd rather not walk around with green hair and purple teeth all day, thank you very much."

"Hey, I'm not that bad! And I could use the practice."

"I'll let you practice on Lily at another time."

"Hey!" The woman cried, laughing in indignation.

"Be thankful I'm not insisting on something more _painful_ in retaliation for insisting I debase myself like this." And with a resigned sigh he looked at himself in the mirror and began morphing into the man on the box – the unkempt, grubby looking _Brad Pitt_ character.

"Well?" he asked when he was done, and he couldn't tell by their wide-eyed looks if he looked decent or like he's been ravaged by a few of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"You look…" Whale boy started, but tapered off with a shocked expression and a smile.

"I can't believe I get to go on a date with Brad Pitt!" Lily squealed in a teasing tone.

Snape sighed, the blond scruffy stubble scratchy against the palm of his hand as he rubbed his face in irritation. But Lily continued the torture.

"You should be wearing a blue sweater with that jacket. It would bring out your eyes."

" _Woman…"_ Snape growled in warning. But before he could say anything else, Harry had murmured a quick spell, and his white button down morphed into a denim-colored V-neck cashmere sweater.

"I told you I wasn't that bad," he said with a smirk. "And she's right. That color really brings out your eyes."


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

"Does everyone have a firm grip?" Snape double-checked. "Jilly, hold tight to Harry. On second thought… hold tight to me, too." Harry shot him an irritated glance, but his father continued, "Lily, are you alright? Ok… On the count of three. One… Two…" And on three he spun with a _crack!_ out of the empty emergency stairwell, landing in a quiet, dim alleyway beside the record store that bordered The Leaky Cauldron.

Harry stumbled on the landing, but his dad had expected it and held firmly to a handful of the back of Harry's shirt, which kept him from bringing Jilly down with him. The young girl didn't seem much phased by apparition, and after a quick moment of surprise as she glanced around at their new surroundings, she looked up at him with a smile.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"London," Snape responded.

Harry meanwhile was looking at Lily, who seemed to like apparation just about as much as Harry did – which was to say, not at all. "Do you always feel like a golf ball being sucked through a garden hose?" The older woman asked, her nose crinkling in an expression of dislike.

"Pretty much," Harry murmured, rubbing his stomach as the nausea dissipated.

"You get used to it," Snape said simply. "Is everyone ready?"

They headed out onto the busy sidewalk, and Harry noticed that both Lily and Jillian's gazes immediately settled on The Leaky Cauldron, unlike the rest of the muggles walking quickly past them whose eyes seemed to slide from the bookstore on one side to the record store on the other without really seeing the grimy little pub in between. Harry smiled to himself – it was only more proof of what Snape had already discovered. They really _were_ witches.

"Remember Harry," his father suddenly muttered at his side. "You're not _you._ So don't be your irritatingly friendly Gryffindor self and say hello to every face you recognize."

"Yeah, I'll remember," he grumbled.

Walking into the dimly lit place, they were immediately greeted by Tom the bald, toothless barman. "Greetings, my friends! May I get you and your family something to eat? Something to drink? It's shaping up to be a hot day out there!"

"We're simply on our way to Diagon Alley," Snape retorted, obviously not happy with immediately being singled out when he was trying to blend in.

"Thank you, though." Harry quickly added, and he couldn't help noticing the two witches in the corner – both about Mrs. Weasley's age – gazing at them. Or more precisely, gazing at _Snape._ Or… gazing at the scruffy, long-haired visage that Snape had borrowed. They hurriedly looked away when they noticed Harry's eyes on them.

 _Odd…_

But he shrugged it off as he followed his family to the back of the small pub, out into the courtyard where there was nothing but a trash can and weeds jutting through a few cracks in the uneven bricks beneath their feet. The girls looked over at him and Snape in confusion. Harry grinned, not taking his eyes off their faces as his father counted three bricks up, and two across, and tapped the brick he landed on lightly with his wand.

The red stone blocks began to quiver and fold in on themselves, almost like Snape's potion lab at Spinner's End, but in reverse. After only a few moments, they were staring through a large archway that released them onto the narrow, cobbled street of Diagon Alley.

Both Lily and Jillian had matching shocked expressions on their faces, their eyes wide and they're mouths formed into perfectly puckered 'O's. Harry and Snape were on either side of them, and they chuckled knowingly at each other when their eyes met.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Snape announced.

Harry remembered wishing that he had eight more eyes to take everything in with, and judging by the looks on Lily and Jillian's faces, they must have felt the same way. His father gently shepherded the group over to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, which Harry knew was only going to add to the girls' astonishment.

Sure enough, the moment they entered the quiet store, both of them blinked in rapid succession. And even though he'd seen it before, Harry couldn't say that he blamed them. Giant barrels of different ingredients stood on display offering their wares at the front half of the store. Sunlight streaming through the large glass windows highlighted everything from Black Beetle Eyes to Mistletoe Berries brimming from their tops. The rear of the store was dimly lit, and shelves along the walls were lined with jars of herbs and bright powers. Inside some of the jars were even more exotic ingredients than in the barrels up front, such as Dragon Blood, Flobberworm Mucus, Rose Thorns, and Lionfish Spines. The really rare and expensive ingredients – like Unicorn Horns, Wolfsbane, and Acromantula Venom – was lined on shelves behind the counter, which was currently manned by an old, leathery-looking gentleman who smiled warmly at them.

"Good day, sir," he welcomed Snape as his father strolled confidently up to the counter. "How may I help you?"

Snape pulled a bit of parchment out of his pocket and slid it across the counter. "I need these supplies, with the allocated amounts." Nodding as he read the list, the man hurried off the collect the requested ingredients.

"What is this place?" Jilly asked.

"It's an Apothecary," Harry replied. "It's where most people come to buy their potion ingredients. Dad is actually the Potions professor at my school."

"Wow! Really?"

"What kinds of potions can you make with all these things?" Lily asked, looking interestedly up at Snape.

"Well," he said simply as he glanced around at the many different jars and herbs. "I _am_ a Potions Master."

"Meaning…?" Lily pressed with a smile.

"Meaning I can brew you just about anything."

"What is it you said in my first class, Dad?" Harry asked with a laugh. Remembering, he turned to Lily and repeated in a very uncanny imitation of his father: "He can teach you how to, _'Bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – as long as you're not a dunderhead.'_ " He turned back to Snape with a grin.

But to his surprise, Snape was staring at him with a look of shock on his scruffy, borrowed face. "So you _were_ listening," he murmured. And if Harry didn't know better, he would have thought that his father sounded… remorseful.

"I always listen," Harry replied uncertainly. _Was it really that hard to believe?_

"Then why did you always make so many mistakes?" Snape asked without heat. He sounded legitimately curious.

"Well… it's hard to get it right when you're always breathing down my neck and taking points for things that aren't my fault," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Trying to lighten the mood, he gave his father a half smile and said, "I don't know if you're aware of this Dad, but you can be kind of scary."

Snape sighed, looking shamefaced. "Harry, I… You're right. I was not the best teacher and took every opportunity to mark you down, even when I knew it was your goal to become an Auror…"

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so after a moment he nudged his dad with his elbow. "It's ok," he murmured as he tried to give Snape an understanding smile. "I'd rather have you as my dad than be an Auror, anyway."

At that moment the Apothecarist returned with a large paper bag filled with Snape's requested ingredients. "Here you are, sir. That will be seventeen Galleons, eleven Sickles, and four Knuts." His father handed over the requested amount, but still seemed very serious and introspective as they left.

Stopping outside the door to the Apothecary, Snape suddenly stopped Harry with a gentle hand on his arm. "I'll tell you what," he murmured. "There's still some time in the summer left. We'll practice in my lab, and I'll personally train you in order to raise your grade to O.W.L. level. That way you don't have to give up your choice of career just because I was so unfair to you." He searched Harry's gaze as he looked down at him, genuinely seeming troubled about his past behavior. "Is that a deal?" he asked softly.

"You'd really do that for me?" Harry asked. He had to admit that the thought of not being an Auror had somewhat grieved him, but then everything at the Ministry had happened, and the loss of his preferred career had just been added onto the long list of things he'd lost in his life. Smiling up at his father, Harry nodded. "Ok then. Deal." And as they started walking again, his father put his arm around him.

Jillian, who had reached out to hold Harry's hand and had stayed quiet during the whole exchange suddenly asked, "What's an Auror?"

Harry laughed and Snape explained, "It's what we call our policemen."

"So that's what you'd like to do after school, Harry?" Lily asked. "Become an Auror?"

"Yeah… I can't really imagine doing anything else."

At that moment the small family came upon Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Jilly raced to the shop window with a gasp and pressed her palms against the glass, muttering a loud, "Ooooo!" There on display was one of Harry's most prized possessions: a Firebolt broomstick.

"A girl after my own heart!" Harry said with a laugh as he walked up next to Jillian and gazed at the beautiful sight behind the glass. "You have good taste, Jilly."

"You know, Harry owns one of those brooms," Snape mentioned offhandedly as he joined them at the window with his arm around Lily.

Jillian looked up at Harry in astonishment. "You do? _Really?_ "

"Yeah… I use it when I'm playing Seeker at school for my Quidditch house team."

Her face scrunched up for a moment as she thought that over. "What's _Quit-tich?_ "

Harry reached out and ruffled her hair. "Oh, do I have lots to teach you..." The family browsed the inside of the store while Harry proceeded to point out the different balls used during the game. With Snape's help, he also explained the rules and what all the different positions were. Snape even discovered a small replica play set in the far back corner, which came to life when Harry podded it with his wand.

"See?" he said, pointing to one of the two miniature players circling above the rest. "I play Seeker. Whichever Seeker catches the Golden Snitch ends the game, and wins their team one-hundred-and-fifty points."

"We'll have to bring you up to the school to watch a game," Snape murmured with a smile, seemingly just as pleased by Jilly's enthusiasm as Harry was.

"That's good," Lily murmured with a laugh, "Because I still don't get it."

They left the store with a smaller bag than the one from the Apothecary. This bag was filled with a miniature model of a Firebolt that zoomed around doing dives, spins, and loop-de-loops – a belated birthday gift for Jilly since Snape hadn't been there to celebrate her actual birthday, he said with a smile.

There was also a gift for Harry in the bag, which he refused to let him see.

"Your birthday is coming up soon," he reminded his son as they left the store. "We'll have to think about how you'd like to celebrate." Harry just nodded, and although he hadn't said anything about how tired he'd suddenly become, Snape noticed right away but said nothing. Instead he led them all to a table outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

The family sat down, and Harry couldn't help but perk up at the thought of one of Mr. Fortescue's spectacular sundaes. As a young boy exited the shop alongside his mother, licking a giant cone covered with huge mounds of cold sweetness, Jilly turned to Snape and hopefully asked, "Is it alright if we get some ice cream?"

"Of course," he chuckled. "We can't visit Diagon Alley without tasting one of Mr. Fortescue's confections. In fact," he said, pulling out a handful of money and handing it to Lily, "Why don't you order some for all of us to share? I'm going to be a moment with Harry. Just order whatever sounds good to you."

"Thank you, Severus!" Jilly cried as she grabbed her mother by the hand and started pulling her anxiously toward the door to the ice cream shop.

Snape turned to Harry with his eyebrow raised. Even with a face that was not his own, his father was able to look dangerous if he wanted to. "Don't think I won't take us directly home if I catch you trying to hide how you're feeling from me again," he muttered in his low, silky tone. "You need to realize that you now have an adult on your side who gives a damn about your personal wellbeing. No more of this trying to handle everything on your own."

Harry was a little taken aback and for a moment was completely at a loss for words. Although in the past he probably would have gotten angry and defensive at the accusation, he had to admit that being scolded by someone who really and truly cared about him was actually kind of… nice.

"Sorry Dad," he murmured sincerely. "It won't happen again."

Snape nodded, seemingly satisfied, and put him through his paces like he had that morning. Harry had just finished another nerve potion when the girls returned, a small cup of ice cream in each of their two hands.

"Well," Snape said with a chuckle. "What have we here?"

Jilly looked beside herself with excitement, and Lily a bit overwhelmed as she exclaimed, "Holy cow! I've never seen so many flavors… It was hard to narrow it down to just four."

They set the cups on the table and Jilly eagerly pointed to each one in turn, "Chocolate Chilli, Strawberry & Peanut Butter, Earl Grey & Lavender, and Butterbeer. I asked Mr. Fortescue if Butterbeer was like Root Beer, and he laughed and said it was better."

Lily handed everyone a small plastic spoon, and they all chose a cup and tasted a bite.

"Mmm! I really like Butterbeer!" Jilly said in an excited tone.

"Better than Root Beer?" Harry asked with a smile.

"Much!"

They ate in silence for a moment before Lily asked, "So are there a lot of – what did you call them, Harry? – _muggle_ families that have magical people in them? Or is it in the genes, passed down through blood?" She took another bite of her ice cream. "This Earl Grey & Lavender is _good…"_

"So is this Strawberry & Peanut Butter," said Harry. "You know, one of my best friends is muggle-born, and she's the most talented witch I've ever seen. I dunno… It seems pretty random to me. What do you think, Dad?"

"I think it's time to switch ice creams," he said with a smile. "Everyone slide their cup to the left." Picking up Harry's Strawberry & Peanut Butter, he took a bite and made a noise of approval. "And yes, I think that as the pure-blood families die out, nature seems to be taking over to ensure the survival of the magical populace. There are many muggle-borns who have no idea they have magic in their blood until they get their Hogwarts letter."

"Was that how it was for you, Harry?" Lily asked as she took a bite of Snape's Chocolate Chilli. "Man, dark chocolate and _chili…_ Who would have known?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a laugh. "And that's _exactly_ how it was for me. How do you like the Earl Grey & Lavender, Jilly?"

"Mm-hmm!" Jilly responded with a mouthful. They all laughed.

"Ok, pass again!" Lily announced. It was her turn with the Strawberry & Peanut Butter. She took a bite and after a moment asked, "I wonder why _I_ never a got a letter…?"

Snape, who now had the Butterbeer ice cream, put down his spoon and looked seriously at Lily. "Your name is in the school archives – I checked. Your letter was never sent because you were living in an orphanage."

Harry stopped with a spoonful of Earl Grey & Lavender halfway to his mouth, a look of confusion on his face. "Why should that matter?"

Snape's borrowed blue gaze slid to rest upon his son. "Can you think of no one else who grew up in an orphanage?" he asked quietly. "Someone who changed the history of the magical world for the rest of time?"

The truth hit Harry like a wrecking ball to the chest. "Voldemort…"

His father nodded, then turned back to Lily. "The dunderheads at the Ministry believed that the fact that Voldemort grew up at an orphanage may have played a role in his turning dark. It's complete and utter nonsense, but soon after he came to power, they mandated that any magical child with a similar background would not be allowed to attend Hogwarts."

Lily was silent for a long moment as she digested his words. Instead of being angry about the unjustness of her situation, she met Snape's gaze and asked, "Is it even legal to bring me into this world?"

"It doesn't matter," he answered simply. "I have every intention of giving you back the life that the idiots at the Ministry stole from you." Lily's eyes warmed as she gazed at Snape, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. Even though it was generally a new experience for him, Harry had never been more proud of his dad.

After the family had finished their ice creams, Snape decided it was time to visit Flourish and Blott's to purchase Harry's sixth year school books. The witch behind the counter almost jumped out of her skin when she turned around to find Snape – in all his blond, scruffy, blue-eyed glory – requesting Hogwarts books. Harry shared a look with Lily, and they laughed as the bookstore clerk stuttered and stammered, blushing to the roots of her hair when he spoke to her. Snape didn't seem to understand her befuddled behavior, and Harry could tell that he was getting more irritated with the woman by the minute.

Harry took pity on the flustered woman, and decided to take over. However, as he stepped up to the counter next to his father, he couldn't help but notice the same witches from The Leaky Cauldron earlier that day lurking in the fortune-telling section, once again staring at Snape, whispering and giggling excitedly amongst themselves. Harry had to admit that he was glad when Snape paid and they finally gathered their purchases to leave.

His father was still a little miffed at the woman's "Brainless behavior," as he called it, so Harry suggested they visit Fred and George's joke shop next (which, if Harry was completely honest with himself, would probably do nothing to improve his father's mood and may even worsen it further.) But he figured that the visit was worth a few good laughs for Jillian and Lily, at the very least. Not to mention, he was anxious to check on Mrs. Weasley, and was nearly exploding out of his skin to tell the Weasleys all about their two unexpected family members.

As they rounded the corner past Gringotts ("Wow!" Gasped Jilly, "It's like a crooked castle!"), Weasley's Wizard Wheezes came into view – or more precisely, the shop practically _exploded_ onto the street in front of them. The group came to a sudden halt. Looking around at his family, Harry saw that the entire group had the same wide-eyed, Dobby-ish expression of disbelief and astonishment plastered across their features – even Snape.

"You are _friends_ with the people who own this, Harry?" Lily asked, her eyes roaming the dazzling window display full of products that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked.

"Yeah… And you're _related_ to them!" He said with a grin.

His father tore his gaze away from the garish display, his face grim as he more than likely considered the many nuisances that would be caused in his classroom because of these same products. Meeting Lily's gaze he murmured, "I think you're starting to understand why the thought of a Weasley and myself together is so unbelievable."

Lily reached out and slipped her arm around his waist. "So you're telling me a gift certificate for your birthday is out of the question?" She asked innocently.

"Only if you want to be murdered in your bed while you sleep," he growled down at her. Lily laughed, but Harry noticed that his father's arm tightened ever so slightly around her.

"Can we go in?" Jilly asked enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"If we must," Snape sighed. "C'mon, let's get this over with." And he walked to the entrance with Lily under his arm like a man walking toward the gallows on the day of his own execution.

The shop was crammed with people, and Harry had a difficult time even getting near the shelves. Jilly however, could easily fit in the spaces between people, and since she had hold of his hand, she dragged him to a solid wall of pink products. As they got closer Harry noticed a sign above: "New WonderWitch products! Love the skin you're in – and make him love it, too. Guaranteed!"

"Ooo, look! It's all pink!" Jilly said in an excited voice as she dragged him toward a space next to a gaggle of giggling teenage girls.

"Uhhh…" But it was too late. The girls all went silent, their many pairs of eyes landing on him and Jilly.

"What's this, Harry?" Jilly asked, completely oblivious to the girls' stares as she picked up and handed him a pink box. Harry tried not to blush as he looked down at the box in his hands.

"Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher," he murmured.

"What are pimples?"

"Something that you don't have to worry about for a long time," he answered, placing the box back on the shelf. He tried not to hear the whispers of the pack of girls beside them, but they may have well been shouting.

" _Awww, he's taking care his kid sister… That's really sweet!"_

" _He's CUTE! Does he go to Hogwarts? His face seems kind of familiar."_

" _I don't know, but he can take care of ME any day of the week."_

They giggled, and even though Harry didn't look like himself, he wanted nothing more than to fall through the floor until the girls had gone.

"You should have told me you needed pimple cream," Snape suddenly said from behind him, loud enough for the group of girls to hear as he picked up the box and turned it over in his hand. "Lily has some at home that you can use."

"Hey!" Lily smacked him on the shoulder.

The girls started giggling again. His father seemed to know exactly the torture he was inflicting upon Harry, and Harry glared up at him. But as Snape turned to glance over at the girls with a smirk, one of them suddenly stopped laughing and looked at him with a shocked look on her face.

" _Oh my GOD!"_ She whispered frantically to her friends. _"You guys, do you know who that IS?!"_

But at that moment a face he recognized walked by, and he nudged his father and gave a slight nod over toward the familiar girl. Snape followed his gaze and, seeing who it was, nodded his understanding. "I'll be right back," he said as he quickly followed the girl to the back of the store, where she was about to disappear behind curtains marked with an "Employees Only" sign.

"Angelina!" he called.

She turned around but her gaze slid over him as she looked for a face she recognized. He hurried over to her side. "Angelina, it's me!" His voice dropped to a murmur. "Harry Potter."

"Uhhhh," She said as gave him a blank stare.

He hurried to explain, "I'm using a Glamour." She still looked at him suspiciously, so he sighed in exasperation and continued, "You used to be a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team before you graduated Hogwarts. You wore your lucky red sock on your left foot for every match. Before every game began, you would spin three times to the right and sing the—"

" _Alright, alright!_ I believe you!" She said, waving her hands to stop him and looking frantically around to make sure no one had overheard. "Harry, what are you _doing_ here? I heard about the attack on the Burrow—"

"I still have a life, Angelina! I'm not going to let Bellatrix Lestrange make me stop living it. Besides, we're taking precautions," he muttered. "Are the twins here? I wanted to check on Mrs. Weasley, see how she's doing."

"Yeah, you just caught them, actually. They're here gathering supplies, but are leaving in a few minutes." She glanced around again, then motioned for him to go through the curtains. "Come on," she whispered.

Behind the curtains were a set of stairs that led up into a tiny flat. He knocked and gave it only a few seconds before walking through the door. The twins were there, throwing clothes and other items into a large duffle bag.

"Sorry mate, this area is private." Fred said as he moved toward Harry, obviously ready to escort him back down the stairs. But then Angelina appeared behind Harry.

"Guys, its Harry!" she said.

"Harry…?" George asked in confusion. "Harry _Potter?"_

"I'm using a Glamour," he explained, but the twins still looked him up and down suspiciously. Fred glanced at Angelina over his shoulder.

"Are you _sure_ it's—?"

"It's him," she assured him, and she went to sit on one of the small beds. The twins both looked at Harry appraisingly.

"Sorry, mate. After everything that happened at home, we can't be too careful."

Harry completely understood. "How is your mum? Is she alright?"

"She had to go to St. Mungo's for some blood replenishing potions, but they are releasing her later today. Dad says she'll have the scars for the rest of her life, but at least she's alive." Fred said, and although his words were grateful, he still had an angry look on his face when he mentioned the scars.

"How about you?" George asked. "Are _you_ ok? Snape took off with you so quick after everything happened, we were all kind of worried…" His words hung in the air between them. It was obvious what he meant: _They were all kind of worried that he was safe with Snape._ But Harry was in a much better place today than he had been yesterday, and he felt no anger at his friend's question.

"Yeah, I'm good. Snape and I… Well…" _How do I explain this?_

"You called him 'Dad'…" One of the twins murmured, and Angelina's eyes widened in shock, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Well," Harry admitted, "He kinda… Is. It's complicated…" The group stood in silence for a very long, uncomfortable moment.

"Does he treat you well?" George suddenly asked.

"Yes. He takes better care of me than anyone ever has."

"Are you happy?" Fred questioned.

"Yeah... I am."

"Then it doesn't matter," the twins said in unison.

Fred stepped up and hugged him like he would a little brother. "We're happy for you, mate."

"And don't worry, we're all in the Order," Angelina piped up. "We won't blow Snape's cover and tell anyone."

"Thanks," Harry murmured, smiling at his friends.

"Ron's going to have _kittens_ when he finds out," George murmured with an evil grin on his face. "You haven't told him, yeah?"

"No, you three are the only ones that know."

"Why don't you come for dinner tonight? Everyone'd love to see you. Dumbledore is planning a feast to celebrate mum getting out of the hospital."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Oh, we're staying at Hogwarts until we can figure out where to go. Dumbledore says it's not safe at the Burrow right now, and wants us to go underground until he can figure something out."

"Wow…" Harry muttered, thinking of the impenetrable wards that Snape had set up on both Spinner's End and Lily's apartment, and determined to mention the Weasley's current situation to his father. But the others were looking at him expectantly, waiting on an answer about dinner. "Oh… yeah! We'll be there! Also…"

Although he had been excited to break the news to the twins, he suddenly wasn't sure how much he should say about Lily and Jillian. The fact that they were family, or the fact that Snape was dating said member of that family was sure to open a can of worms that Harry didn't want to get tangled in at the moment. It was all too complicated for him to try and explain, so he decided to just say nothing for the moment.

"Uh… Is it alright if we bring a couple of guests?"


	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

 _ ****Author's Note: I apologize for the length of time it took to publish this chapter. I was trying to be a canon as possible with both Diagon Alley as well as the included stores, and ended up doing LOTS of research (including cracking open several of the HP books and rereading a few chapters). You may even notice that some of the descriptions and dialogue sound familiar, and that is because I tried to echo some of the same verbiage that JK used in order to keep my story very canon-esque. Although it took a lot longer than anticipated, this chapter was incredibly fun to write. Hopefully it gives the feeling of something that could have actually happened in JK's world.**_ __ _ **Enjoy, my lovely readers!**_

"So how do you like the store, Harry?" Fred asked as he bent down next to his brother and started shoving clothes and things into the duffel bag once again.

"It's _brilliant!_ " Harry exclaimed appreciatively. "We all need more laughter in our lives right now, with what's been happening with Voldemort. I'll definitely be a regular customer when I'm not at Hogwarts–"

"Don't think that we haven't forgotten that you gave us our start, Harry. You don't pay here, alright?" George said seriously.

"Yes, take anything you want," Fred continued. "We'll make sure our employees know that. In fact…" he said, taking an arm load of subdued-looking products from the end of the bed and handing them to Harry.

"But… I can't take these!" Harry exclaimed.

"Of course you can," Fred said, waiving away his concern.

"Just remember to tell people where you got them, if they ask." George stated.

"Wow… Well… Thanks. What is all this stuff, anyway?" Harry asked. Angelina smiled and handed him a large, handled paper bag marked with the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes logo, and Harry promptly filled it nearly to the top with the things he'd been given.

"Funny how it happened really," explained George. "Even with You-Know-Who on the rise, you would be amazed at how many people are woefully inadequate at Defense Against the Dark Arts – even the simplest of things like Shield Charms."

"So we thought Shield Hats would be a bit of a laugh, you know? Challenge your mate to jinx you while you're wearing it and laugh at his expression when it just bounces off."

"But the Ministry bought over five-hundred for their staff, and we're _still_ getting huge orders!"

"So we decided to expand into Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves… They won't help much against the Unforgivables, but for minor or moderate curses, they'll do the trick."

"And then we decided that we'd expand into the whole range of Defense Against the Dark Arts products because they were such hot sellers. We can barely keep them on the shelves!"

"Check this out," said Fred, picking up one of the small drawstring bags he'd given Harry. "Peruvian Darkness Powder. Just a pinch will instantly turn an entire area dark so that you can make a hasty getaway if you run into some nefarious characters."

"And these are cool, look!" Said George, tossing another small box to his twin so that Fred could show Harry. "Decoy Detonators. You just drop one on the sly and it will run off and make a bunch of noise out of sight. It's quite the little diversion if you ever need one."

"Impressive!" Harry murmured, quite in awe of his friends. "No wonder Umbridge hated you two so much."

Angelina and the twins laughed. "She's in here all the time, you know," Angelina stated. "Always trying to catch them doing something illegal, threatening to take away their selling permits and things."

" _What?"_ Harry gasped. "She's not in Azkaban?"

"No… She was able to slip back into the Ministry after Fudge's resignation, and Scrimgeour has, and I quote, ' _Bigger problems to deal with._ '"

Harry's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. "Figures," he spat. "It might be a new administration, but it's still the same old crooked and corrupt tosh."

"All's not lost though, Harry!" George declared with a snicker. "Last time she was here snooping around, she wanted to ' _test'_ the Wrinkle Repair in our Matured WonderWitch line–"

"To _'make sure'_ it was all-natural and non-toxic, like the package says –" interrupted Fred.

"But what she didn't realize was that we replaced her sample with a bit of dragon dung from Charlie's herd in Romania–"

"Which is still all-natural and non-toxic, if you think about it."

Harry burst out laughing at that, and George continued through his own snorts of laughter, "She rubbed it in quite thoroughly, and walked around muttering that it actually did seem to soften her skin."

"She liked it so much that we sent her an entire box of the stuff," Fred said with tears of mirth streaming down his face.

"So whether or not she ever figures it out, it's still a win-win either way," George finished hysterically. Harry's anger was forgotten for the moment, and he had a hard time catching his breath because he was laughing so hard.

"Merlin's beard, that's the best prank you've ever pulled!" He gasped. "Even _Snape_ will appreciate that one!"

"Good ol' Professor Snape..." Muttered George, wiping away the tears in his eyes with a sigh. "You really seem to have changed him, Harry. I haven't seen so much _warm and fuzzy_ since Mum and Ginny oozed it all over us when the first litter of Pygmy Puffs was born."

"The professor will be there tonight, right?" Fred asked casually with a quick glance at his brother.

"Oh yeah, he's got… uh… things he wants to talk to everyone about."

"Perfect! We're definitely looking forward to it," said Fred with a sly half smile on his face that Harry couldn't help but be suspicious of. Fred quickly changed the subject before he could ask any more questions.

After saying his goodbyes and promising to be at the castle later, Harry was heading back down the stairs, laden with his bag full of Defense Against the Dark Arts merchandise. It took him a few moments to find his family in the teeming crowd – no longer in the WonderWitch section, thankfully. Instead they were crowded around a large cage, the inside of which was crawling with little balls of fur that were currently rolling around, squeaking, and purring at the edge of the cage because of the many different fingers stuck through the bars, scratching them behind the ears. A large sign hanging above announced them to be the aforementioned Pygmy Puffs.

Harry pushed himself through the crowd. As he drew nearer he saw that Jillian and Lily were both at the bars of the cage, playing with the fluffy little creatures. His father, who was the only male in the vicinity of the Pygmy Puff cage and was surrounded by a sea of estrogen, was tolerating all the squeals of delight from the females around him – but only just. He looked to be clenching his jaw hard enough to break more than a few teeth, and Harry saw his father roll his eyes more than once at the females around him.

As he got closer, Harry heard Jillian exclaim to Snape as she scratched a purring purple puff, "They're so _cute –_ like tiny kittens rolled in cotton candy!"

Snape sighed as rolled his eyes once again, then pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing as he responded, "They are fairly cuddly, yes."

Harry couldn't have asked for a more perfect setup. _Time for some revenge._

"Oh here you are!" He announced loudly as he sidled up next to his father. Every face gathered around the cage turned to look at him. "Those Pygmy Puffs are _ad-OR-able_. You know Dad, they'd go _perfect_ with your fluffy pink slippers at home. You should get one!" Harry tried to plaster an innocent-looking smile on his lips as giggles erupted all around them. But the look of absolute horror on his father's face did him in, and he burst out laughing.

"Let's go," Snape quickly instructed in an irritated tone, and he turned and stalked darkly away. Laughing as he followed his family, Harry noticed that the group of girls from the WonderWitch display were gathered around the Pygmy Puff cage, all keenly watching his father as he walked away. But then Lily nudged him with her elbow, winking and giving him a thumbs up as she laughed, and he paid the girls no more attention as he left the store with his family.

Lily, Jillian, and Harry regrouped with Snape, who was skulking on the outside of the store waiting for them. "If I never have to set foot in that infernal place again, I can die a happy man," his father grumbled as they approached him. Snape had loved it about as much as Harry thought he would.

 _Even with everything that has happened, some things never change._ The thought was strangely comforting in its predictability.

His father mock-glared down at Harry as the family continued to stroll down the Alley. "And don't think that you can get away with such cheek without repercussions, young man."

"Funny, it kind of _feels_ like I just got away with it."

"Yes, well… I'll get my revenge," His father groused quietly. Harry just laughed. "So how is Mrs. Weasley?"

"She's good, thank Merlin," Harry answered. "I guess she spent the night at St. Mungo's – they had to give her some blood replenishing potions and wanted to keep an eye on her. But they are releasing her later today. Everyone is at Hogwarts because Dumbledore doesn't trust the wards back at the Burrow." Harry glanced up at Snape. "You've never had any problems with your wards, right? Do you think you could–?"

"Of course, Harry," Snape muttered seriously, all traces of irritation suddenly gone. "Your friends could have _died_ fighting next to you. Of course I'll speak to Dumbledore."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thanks, Dad. It means a lot after everything they've done for me over the years. I'd hate for them to be homeless on my account… Oh, and they've invited us to dinner at the castle tonight." He glanced over at Lily and Jillian, who had wandered over to the window of the Magical Menagerie. " _All_ of us."

His father seemed to stiffen ever so slightly, and for some reason the vision of the young, bullied teenage Snape that he'd seen in the Pensieve flashed through his mind. Harry stopped his dad with a hand on his arm and looked earnestly up at him.

"It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks. You have us now – _all of us_. And I know Lily and Jillian would agree with me when I say that we are incrediblylucky to have _YOU."_ His father seemed strangely uncertain as he looked down at him, and Harry murmured, "I couldn't have chosen a better dad… Even if I was given the option, I wouldn't change anything." As Harry's words sunk in, Snape's countenance seemed to get lighter. Even though he looked slightly uncomfortable at the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, Harry was happy to see a small, considering smile appear on his father's lips.

Not needing an answer and not wanting to further embarrass Snape, Harry turned and looked toward Lily and Jillian. He laughed when they started walking towards the girls and he heard his father mutter, "Oh no… Not _another_ round of fuzzy little animals. My stomach just can't handle anymore cuteness." But when they reached the large front window, his father grudgingly allowed Jilly to pull him into the cramped, noisy little store and tolerated (albeit somewhat impatiently) her excitement as she pointed out all of the magical animals.

Looking immensely relieved as they left the raucous, smelly little creatures behind, Snape still had Jillian's hand in his own as he turned to Lily and offhandedly mentioned, "We've been invited to dinner at the school this evening."

" _Really?!"_ Lily squealed, channeling her five-year-old daughter's excitement.

"Indeed," Snape continued. "The Weasleys will also be there."

Lily stopped in her tracks, suddenly looking nervous as she murmured, "Oh my gooodness… Wow… I…" She glanced back and forth between Snape and Harry. "Do you– I mean, they have no idea Jilly and I even exist. Do you think this is the right time, with everything that happened with Mrs. Weasley? I don't want to shock her too much when she's recovering –"

"Mrs. Weasley is fine Lily, I promise," His father stated firmly. "The wizarding community is able to heal themselves at a much faster rate than muggles. Remember my rib?"

Lily's eyes widened momentarily as she stared at him. "So _that's_ how-!"But after a moment she looked off into the distance and went back to nibbling her bottom lip. "Do you… Do you think they'll… _like us?"_

It was Harry's turn to speak up. "Are you kidding? I was just some kid they met at King's Cross Station, and they practically _adopted_ me. The Weasleys are some of the nicest people I've ever known – they're going to _love_ you guys!"

She studied Harry for a moment, but then a small smile broke out across her face. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin in a confident manner. "Ok," she said, relaxing into a bigger smile, "Let's do it!"

Placing his arm around her, Snape tucked her into his side and gave her a quick kiss. "There is still a little time before dinner, and there's one last place I'd like to go before we leave…" he said mysteriously.

Although it took Harry a moment to realize where they were going as he'd only stepped foot in the shop once when he was eleven, a huge grin broke out upon his face the moment he understood.

"Where are we headed?" Lily asked, seeing the excitement appear on Harry's face.

"You'll see," he said evasively, and even Jilly perked up in curious interest.

A few minutes later they were standing outside the narrow and shabby shop. It definitely looked its age, which if the sign above was to be believed, had been one of the first wizarding shops to open in London. In peeling gold letters the sign announced, "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. – Wands sold in this fine establishment since 87 A.D." A single wand lay upon a faded purple cushion in the dusty window display, and Jilly pressed her palms against the glass with a hushed, "Ooooo!"

"382 _B.C.?"_ Lily gasped. "Wow… they must really know their stuff!"

"Oh, he does!" Harry announced. "Most consider Mr. Ollivander to be the world's best wandmaker. People even come from as far away as the Americas to purchase one of his wands."

She gave a small whistle of appreciation, then turned curiously to his father. "Are you buying another wand?"

"Yes," Snape replied simply. "Yours."

Lily's eyes went very wide, and Harry didn't miss the fact that she nervously grasped and interlaced his father's fingers with her own. However, she didn't hesitate when Harry opened the door for her. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the store when the family stepped inside, and even Jillian seemed to sense the ageless, secretive magic that dwelt there. They all went very quiet and still, as if they were in an ancient, holy library and were trying to preserve its hallowed tranquility. The little shop had rows upon rows of bookshelves piled with thousands of thin, narrow boxes stacked neatly up to the ceiling.

"Good afternoon," said a low voice from the shadows, and the entire family jumped, even Snape. A man as ancient as his shop stood before them, his skin soft like a wrinkled bit of old parchment and his pale eyes like round moons reflecting back at them in the gloom of the shop. Just like the first time he'd seen him, Ollivander reminded Harry of a very wise old owl.

Snape stepped forward. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander. We are here for my–"

But Mr. Ollivander looked around Snape's borrowed body, his piercing gaze settling kindly on Lily. "Come forward, my dear. You don't need to hide." Snape immediately stepped back as Lily took a hesitant step forward. Lily's steps became more confident the closer she came to Mr. Ollivander and his knowing, silvery moon eyes shone with curiosity.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander as he inspected her. "Yes… Yes, I see. _Very_ interesting. Which is your wand-arm, Miss…?"

"You can call me Lily," she said softly with a smile. "And… Well, I'm right-handed, if that helps."

"Lily," he repeated with a gentle smile. "Hold out your right arm for me, please. A little higher. That's it." He began measuring from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around her head. "Mm-hmm," he said afterwards, as if answering an unspoken question that only he could hear. "Indeed. I see. How interesting… Very well." And with a quick flick of his wand, a few boxes flew from the shelves behind him and piled themselves neatly at his feet.

"Try this for me, Lily," he said, opening the first box and handing her a wand. "Alder and Dragon Heartstring. 10 ¾ inches, a bit unyielding, but perfect for the helpful, considerate types such as yourself. Just give it a wave, my dear."

Lily, looking as if she felt rather foolish, did as he asked. Boxes down at the end of the nearest aisle exploded off the shelves, the wands and wrappings from inside clattering to the floor. Mr. Ollivander immediately snatched it out of her hand. "Nope, definitely not!"

He tried again with the next box, explaining, "Ash and Phoenix Feather. 9 inches. A bit whippier than the last. This wand is especially good for the stubbornly courageous. Now, again if you please, my dear." This time when Lily gently waived the wand, Mr. Ollivander's hair began to grow – as did his nose hair. "Oh my… That won't do," Mr. Ollivander murmured calmly as his nose hair grew quickly past his lips. The hair upon his head was growing so long that Harry suspected that Dumbledore – if he could see – would have been quite jealous.

Harry and Jillian couldn't help themselves, and immediately burst out laughing as Snape hurried forward with a quickly murmured, _"Finite,"_ returning his hair to its proper length. Harry could tell that although he was attempting to keep a straight face, he was also trying very hard not to laugh.

"Well Lily, you are proving to be a difficult case. It's alright, not to worry," he quickly assured her when she made to profusely apologize. "I've always enjoyed a challenge."

The next wand – Cedar and Unicorn Hair, 12 ½ inches, somewhat springy and made specifically for those with strength of character and unusual loyalty – created a lovely little bird which sprang from the end of the wand and promptly landed on Mr. Ollivander's shoulder, singing merrily away.

"This could be the one, my dear!" Mr. Ollivander happily announced. But just then the bird gave a mighty, staining, heaving little grunting sound, pooped on his shoulder, and promptly exploded with an eruption of feathers. "Or not," Mr. Ollivander grumbled. Lily had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to keep from laughing as she wiped the poo away with her sleeve, giving Mr. Ollivander an apologetic smile. Poor Jilly looked horrified at her mother, as well as at Harry and Snape (who was laughing in earnest now), until they quickly explained that the bird was only a charm and wasn't real.

Mr. Ollivander then handed Lily another wand and said, "As unaccustomed as I am to having exploding birds on my shoulder, at least I know that we are headed in the right direction. Try this: Dogwood and Unicorn Hair, 11 ½ inches, moderately swooshy," he ended without further explanation, and he took a few steps back.

Lily took a moment to examine the Dogwood wand. "I like this one, Mr. Ollivander. It feels… different than the others. Like I could…" And with a gentle swish of the wand, an entire cluster of dainty, vibrant butterflies erupted from the end. They fluttered as a group around Mr. Ollivander, then soared across the room toward the rest of the family. Jilly giggled as a butterfly landed on the tip of her outstretched finger, but Snape didn't seem very enthusiastic when the rest landed on him. His father stood there silently as the butterflies on his head, shoulders, and chest, gently opened and closed their wings in contentment, and the others couldn't help but laugh at his glowering expression – even Mr. Ollivander.

Harry held his breath as he waited for something to go wrong, but long moments passed and nothing did. His father scowled at the butterfly from Jilly's finger as it fluttered up to land on the tip of his nose.

"I'd give all my gold in Gringotts for a camera right now," Harry murmured with a smirk, and Snape's face darkened even further.

"Oh very good, Lily!" Mr. Ollivander cried, clapping his hands. "I knew this would be the wand for you! Dogwood is one of my personal favorites, as it is quirky and mischievous – which if you don't mind me saying, my dear, you also seem to be." He continued with a warm smile, "These wands have very playful natures and always insist upon clever owners that can provide them with excitement and fun. Paired with Unicorn Hair, this wand will be especially good at healing work as well as producing dazzling enchantments – as you can obviously see."

" _Healing_ work?" Lily murmured with a gasp.

"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander responded. "I shall expect delightful things from you and this wand, Lily. Very delightful things."

Mr. Ollivander banished the butterflies covering Snape with a flick of his wand ("Aww!" Jilly cried in disappointment), then slipped the Dogwood wand back into its cushioned box and into a small paper bag. When Snape had paid and everyone had thanked him, Mr. Ollivander waved them out of the store and called, "I will see you in a few years when it is Miss Jillian's turn for her own wand." Any sadness that the girl had in her eyes over the disappearance of the little butterflies immediately disappeared, and she waved once more through the front window at Mr. Ollivander.

Lily had a huge grin on her face as they walked away. "May I… carry it?" she asked Snape, who was holding the bag that the wandmaker had given to them.

"Of course," he said. And he immediately stopped and handed the rest of their purchase to Jilly with a smile. He then pulled the wand from its narrow box.

"Do the butterflies again, Mum!" Jillian cried as she hopped up and down beside her.

"Jilly-Bean, I'm not even sure how I–"

At that moment, a dazzlingly bright flash and thick puffs of purple smoke billowed around them, blinding the entire group for long seconds. It was as Harry was blinking away the spots from his vision that he heard a voice that was as welcome as nails against a chalkboard.

"Sir! Sir! Mr. Pitt, isn't it? Mr. Pitt, would you mind answering a few questions for The Daily Prophet?" Rita Skeeter called out in rapid fire succession. Her magenta robes perfectly matched her winged, jeweled spectacles, and her platinum blond hair was once again styled in elaborate, girlish ringlets. Jilly had dropped their bags and was trying to gather the purchases that had scattered across the ground. Harry dropped to his knees to help her, glaring up at the contemptible woman the entire time.

"Mr. Pitt!" The vile reporter shouted, stepping over Harry and Jillian to get close to his father. She had her crocodile handbag clutched in her crimson-taloned fingers, the acid green quill scribbled madly away on a roll of parchment in midair above her shoulder. "You are known as a muggle movie star from America, isn't that correct? How long have you been hiding the fact that you are secretly a wizard?"

"I – What?" His father snapped as he lifted Jilly off the ground and, with a quick wave of his wand, their purchases all jumped back inside the bags. Harry picked them up as he rose protectively in front of Lily and Jillian, gripping his wand within his pocket and wanting nothing more than to throw a few well-aimed hexes at the hated woman.

"Isn't it true that you have never made an appearance within the wizarding community in _either_ country before today? What is it you're trying to hide?" Another flash blinded the family as cloying purple smoke unfurled into the air, and Harry noticed for the first time that there was an actual photographer dancing around the family taking pictures.

"Get out of my way," Snape growled as he pushed the man aside, ushering his family before him as he tried to hurry them in the opposite direction down the Alley. Harry noticed that there was a crowd gathering around trying to see what all the commotion was about, and he cringed as he saw both the group of teenage girls and the two witches from the Leaky Cauldron.

"It's most unusual for someone as famous as yourself to appear so suddenly within our world. Are you running away from something in your past, Mr. Pitt? Is your family aware of anything you might not want to become public knowle–"

His father whipped around with his wand drawn, pushing the tip threateningly into the underside of Rita's heavily-set jaw. "If you come anywhere near my family," his father murmured in his dangerously low, silky tone, "I will make sure that the only part of you that is ever found is one stubby, red-clawed finger – _detached_ fromyour hand – so that the world will know that it's once and for all rid of your despicable presence and horrendous reporting."

Rita's eyes widened in fear, and Snape stared down at her for a long, uncomfortable moment before spinning away in the other direction, shepherding the family away.

As the reporter realized that her life was not in immediate danger, an oily smile appeared upon her cherry lips. "Take that down," she muttered up at the quill above her shoulder, then turned and snapped at the photographer, "Tell me you got pictures of that?!" The photographer nodded, and Rita called out to Snape in a smug, sycophantic tone, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Pitt." She then turned to the gathering crowd and asked if anyone who witnessed the altercation would like to give a statement for her story, and both the group of teenagers and the older witches hurried to her side.

"I believe that's our que for dinner," his father murmured darkly, and he ushered them all into a dark nook between stores. "Hold tight," he said, and then he spun on the spot and apparated them to the gates outside Hogwarts.

Arriving with a loud _crack,_ Snape reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder to keep him from falling flat onto his face. But as he did so they heard a loud gasp only a few feet away. Turning slowly toward the sound, Harry saw that the entire Weasley clan – along with Hermione, who was the one that had gasped – were standing there looking at the strangers in horror. It was clear that they had just apparated there a moment before after collecting Mrs. Weasley from St. Mungo's.


	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

 _ ****Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took so long to get this out, everyone. It's looking like my husband may lose his foot, as the surgery that was performed doesn't seem to be working. It's been chaos around here, which unfortunately hasn't left me much time to write. But please know that I still have FULL INTENTION to get this story out! I literally have it on my to-do list every day, but sometimes there just isn't enough hours in the day. Thank you so much for your understanding, lovely readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

The Weasleys immediately moved to draw their wands on the strangers, which in turn prompted his father to whip out his own wand from his sleeve pocket. But before any spells could be uttered, Hermione threw herself between the two families.

"STOP!" she cried, glancing over her shoulder with an extremely confused look on her face. Her wide eyes settled first on Snape – on whom they lingered for a long moment – before they flicked over to examine Harry. "That's Brad Pitt and the kid from 'Free Willy'…" she explained to the Weasleys, sounding baffled and somewhat mystified before she shook her head and continued, "They're American and they're… uh… _famous_ in the muggle world."

"What in the bloody hell is _'Free Willy'_?" George snorted.

"Must be some kind of naughty movie. Those Yanks are complete nutters…" Fred sniggered.

"Wait a minute!" George cried. "Hermione, how do _YOU_ know about naughty–?"

"Are you having a laugh?"Harry suddenly yelled with incredulity. "You were having a conversation with me not even _two hours_ ago!"

"When did we meet an American porn star? I should remember something like that!" George whispered loudly.

" _Tuh_ , shut up, you loon,"Fred scoffed. He hesitantly called out, "Harry, is that you?"

"Obviously, you toss pot!" Harry replied, although he was unable to completely suppress a snigger of amusement. Ginny, who was standing directly behind the twins, rolled her eyes and promptly reached out to slap them both upside the head.

"Ouch,"said George as he rubbed the back of his skull. But then: "You're right, Sis. We completely threw a spanner in the works– _Ouch!_ What the–?!"

This time it was Mrs. Weasley that had slapped them as she cried, "Language!"

"Ok, ok! _Sorry!"_ Fred yelled as the twins scuttled out reach of both Ginny and their mother.

Hermione turned to Harry and his family in shock. "But Harry, what are you doing impersonating movie stars? No George, they are not porn stars!" She sternly said to the twins, who were whispering amongst themselves behind her.

"We didn't know these covers were _that_ well known!" He cried. "It's not like Severus and I get out to the muggle theatre much!"

Ron was laughing hysterically now. "How–how did you even know–who to make–yourselves look like?" He gasped through tears of mirth.

"Um… It's a long story," Harry muttered, glancing sideways at Lily and Jillian.

"If it's alright with all of _you,"_ snapped Snape with an exasperated huff and a glare at Lily, "I believe it's time to cease and desist with this stupidity." And with that he performed the counter charm to both his and Harry's Glamours.

But as the charms melted away and their regular appearances materialized, one of the twins said, "You should leave it, Professor. It makes you look… approachable."

"Positively friendly, I'd say."

"Or just downright sexy…" Ginny muttered behind her brothers, and by her face Harry couldn't tell if she was pleased or disgruntled by the thought. The entire assembly burst out laughing, and Harry's father looked murderously around at the lot of them.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to come to her senses. "Alright, alright…" she said to her family, "That's enough now." And then she looked to Lily and Jillian with a friendly smile on her face and warmly asked, "Who are these two beautiful ladies?"

Before they could form an appropriate reply, Jilly ran to Mrs. Weasley and announced, "Hi, my name is Jilly-Bean and me and my mum are part of the Weasley family!"

The entire crowd suddenly went very silent and still. Lily gave a small inhalation and muttered, "Oh my God… These are the Weasleys, aren't they?" Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and nodded.

The families continued to silently stare at one another in shock when suddenly Lily reached out and grasped first Harry's hand, and then his father's. Squaring her shoulders she dragged them both over to Mrs. Weasley. At the expression on his father's face, Harry almost burst out laughing again – the poor man looked as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to proudly declare his love for the woman, or hex her because of the humiliation she was causing.

Coming to a halt directly behind her smiling daughter, Lily held out her hand to Mrs. Weasley and unabashedly announced, "Hi. I'm Lily Prewett. My father was Phillip Prewett, and I think he was your cousin."

Mrs. Weasley gaped at her in shock for a moment, but then an enormous smile alighted her features. She squealed in excitement, "Holy Merlin's beard! _OH MY GOD!"_ And ignoring Lily's outstretched hand, she threw her arms around the younger woman in a tight hug. Refusing to let go of her newfound family member, Mrs. Weasley reached an arm out for Jillian, and the little girl joined them in the embrace.

The older women were both crying and laughing through their tears, and Harry's smile broadened to the point that his cheeks hurt. He knew better than anyone what it felt like to suddenly have a family after being alone for so long, and he couldn't have been happier for all involved.

Finally pulling back and dabbing at her eyes, Mrs. Weasley held Lily at arm's length and warmly examined her. "There's no question you are Phillip's daughter. You're a perfect blend of him and Marjorie – she was gorgeous just like you. I was at their wedding, you know. But I was only a third year, still attending Hogwarts then… I never knew they had a daughter! Phillip was a squib – he couldn't perform magic – and he got a job in the muggle world and moved away, I wasn't sure where, and after mother died I didn't know how to reach him. We lost touch and I didn't even know of his and Marjorie's deaths until a few years ago, I'm so sorry for your loss and for leaving you alone!" Mr. Weasley squeezed his wife gently by the shoulder, and she glanced at him before saying, "I'm rambling..." She took a deep breath and continued in a quiet voice, "I just… I never knew you existed."

Lily gave her a watery smile. "I never really knew you existed, either. Well… I'd seen your name on paper, but…" She gazed lovingly over at Snape. "If it wasn't for Severus, I never would have known about any of this. About any of _you._ "

"Oh, Severus…" Mrs. Weasley murmured as her gaze moved to his father, her eyes filling with tears again. Suddenly she launched herself onto him, clinging to his neck as she wailed, " _Thank you,_ Severus!"

Alarmed and looking as if he was afraid the terrifying potions master might eat his wife, Mr. Weasley tried to pry her off. But the more he tried to pull Mrs. Weasley away, the harder she clung to Snape's neck.

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing. He wasn't sure who looked more horrified by the sudden turn of events – Mr. Weasley or his father.

Snape reached up and awkwardly patted Mrs. Weasley on the back. She seemed to calm down and moments later, finally released him. It didn't escape Harry's notice how Snape immediately scuttled backwards, using Lily as a human shield as he placed her between himself and the Weasley matriarch. Snape glanced over at Harry and when their eyes met, Harry mouthed the word, _'Coward.'_ Snape vigorously nodded, not even bothering to deny the accusation, and Harry had to cover a snort of amusement with a bogus sneeze.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully. "It's just that after everything that happened yesterday…"

"You don't have to explain," Lily spoke kindly, talking over Snape and what would surely have been a snarky comment. "We were going to tell you at dinner instead of just springing it on you like this. I'm so sorry, it must be quite a shock."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny cried. "We have more girls in the family now! It's better than Christmas!" Her clear excitement broke the ice, and as the family laughed while crowding around them, Mrs. Weasley introduced everyone in turn. Harry was thrilled to see that every single one of them hugged Jillian and Lily as they were introduced, all seeming to open their hearts without question – just as Harry had known they would.

"You did good, Dad," Harry muttered. His father was watching the procession without a smile, but the warmth in his eyes was there all the same. He just grunted at Harry's approving words, but Harry could tell that he was pleased.

The sun was beginning to set in a brilliantly vibrant sky after all the introductions were made. Mrs. Weasley called out to the lot of them, "Let's all go up to dinner." She then took Lily's arm and tucked it in the crook of her own, still questioning her younger cousin about her life. The women talked and laughed easily together.

Harry and Snape took their place behind the family as the group opened the gates and began walking up the hill. But they had taken barely two steps before Lily glanced over her shoulder and, smiling, reached out to Snape with her other hand. His father hesitated for half a heartbeat, but allowed Lily to entwine their fingers together as he joined her. Lily then continued talking with Mrs. Weasley as if nothing had happened.

Ron and Hermione immediately took his father's place beside Harry, one on either side.

"Oh Harry, this is wonderful!" Hermione murmured excitedly. "How in the world did Professor Snape find her? For her name to be _Lily_ of all things, especially right after you had come to stay…"

Ron glanced at Snape and Lily holding hands, "And… is he… _dating_ her?"

"Yeah, he is. I think he's more shocked about it than anyone else. But they're really good together – she keeps him in line," Harry said with a smile. "And I guess it was technically _me_ that found her," he explained. "Man, there's so much I haven't told you guys…" And he proceeded to explain everything – the fight with the Dursleys and how Snape had come to his rescue (although he left out the part about Dudley); staying at Spinner's End and accidentally injuring Snape's rib; saving Jillian and meeting Lily while wandering aimlessly around town ("Oh Harry, you're so lucky! You could have been found by Death Eaters!" Hermione had gasped); how Lily had helped his father and how the meeting had prompted Snape to admit that he'd been friends with Harry's mother (both of his friends had gasped in shock at this pronouncement); and finally, the reason he had been so depressed and angry while staying with the Weasleys.

"I'm really sorry, Ron…" Harry said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "After everything that happened, I felt like… like I had lost a family all over again. I was just… so..."

"Don't worry about it, mate. I understand."

Hermione smiled, obviously pleased for what he and Snape had unexpectedly found together. "Professor Snape seems just as happy as you about all this. Do you think he'll stop being a spy and–?"

But her question was cut off by Lily's gasp and Jillian's cry of, " _Wow!"_ The castle had just come into view, the stone glowing in the vivid orange and pinks of the setting sun. The lake was still and glassy so that it reflected the surrounding mountains and setting sun just like a mirror, making it look as if Heaven and Earth had collided in one magnificent, picturesque Scottish loch.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" They heard from the giant front doors of the castle, and a grin broke out across Harry's face as Dumbledore ambled down the steps towards them.

"Mum, is that _Merlin_ from my stories?" Jilly gasped, and everyone but Snape laughed.

"Don't encourage him," Snape grumbled. "He already thinks too highly of himself."

"Thank you, Severus. I was beginning to wonder why I had such a difficult time fitting my head through my office door this morning," Dumbledore said with an amused smile as he approached the group. He turned to Mrs. Weasley saying, "Molly, my dear… I'm so thankful to see you on your feet and looking none the worse for wear. You had us all very worried."

"Thank you, Albus. That… _woman…_ won't ever come between me and my children again," Mrs. Weasley replied in a very Snape-like growl, and goosebumps broke out on Harry's flesh. There was something in her tone that made Harry very glad that he was a _friend_ of the Weasleys instead of a foe. As terrifying as Bellatrix could be, he had a feeling that it was nothing compared to a protective and very pissed off Mrs. Weasley.

Dumbledore smiled, but instead of the warmth of moments ago, the look was rather chilling. "Indeed, Molly. It is a very foolish individual that would cross a mother bear protecting her cubs. Although I cannot promise it will not happen again, I can tell you that next time, we shall be ready." The goosebumps on Harry's skin were joined by a prickling of the back of his neck, and once again Harry was thankful that he would never be on the receiving end of the combined wrath of Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley.

The headmaster's face cleared and the warmth returned as a smile spread across his lips. He gazed down at Jilly before bending to her level and saying, "Well hello there! You must be the one who thought I was Merlin. I assure you, my dear – I'm much better looking than he ever was. My nose is far more crooked, see?" And he turned his head to the side in order to show off its brilliantly bent length.

Jilly giggled as she reached out and ran her tiny fingers over the prominent bump in the middle. "You have a really pretty nose," she murmured with a smile. "Will I get a bump like yours someday?"

"Only if you're lucky," the headmaster replied with a wink. Then as if he just remembered, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, brightly colored foil package from his pocket. "I have a taste for muggle candy, and I just discovered a wonderful little treat not long ago. Would you like a Ring Pop, Jilly?"

"My favorite! Thank you!" The little girl cried. She took the sweet gratefully then asked with a coy smile, "And how did you know my name?"

" _Magic_ ," Dumbledore murmured, and he winked at her. Straightening up, the headmaster smiled at her mother before taking her hand in his own and saying, "Hello Lily. It is such a pleasure to meet the woman that has unlocked the affection of our austere potions master." Snape made a sputtering, choking sound and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily for a few moments. But he sobered as he continued, "It hurts my heart that you were not brought to Hogwarts as a child. But I hope that you feel as comfortable here as if you had been. Welcome, my dear."

"Thank you so much, Professor Dumbledore–"

"Oh no, please call me Albus. One of the perks of never attending Hogwarts is that you don't have to worry about calling me 'Professor'," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "Now… judging by both Molly and Severus' determined grasps, it seems as if your attention has been thoroughly claimed. So if you don't mind," he hefted Jillian into his arms, and the girl squealed in delight, "I'll be escorting _this_ young lady to the castle. And I want that entire Ring Pop to be gone before dinner, alright?" Jilly nodded happily as she opened the foil package and placed the sucker on her finger.

"Beautiful," Dumbledore complimented as she held it out in front of her.

As the group crossed the threshold into the Entrance Hall, Lily and Jillian made the same awed sound, both looking around with wide eyes and open mouths. "Don't worry, my dears. The best is yet to come," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile, and with a wave of his wand the doors to the Great Hall opened magnificently before them.

Every smiling face immediately flicked to the newcomers to watch their reaction, and they were not disappointed.

"Wow!" The girls cried in unison, their eyes glued to the thousands of candles floating lazily in the air, which only added to the warm glow that came from beyond. The enchanted ceiling showed streaks of red and purple against the darkening sky, the wispy clouds alight like bonfires in the heavens.

"You get _this_ to look forward to for every meal?" Lily murmured with a gasp. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! I'd… I'd never leave!"

"But what about when it rains?" Jilly asked, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful sunset to look curiously at Dumbledore, who still held her in his arms. "Don't you get wet?"

"The ceiling is still there," Hermione piped up. "But it's bewitched to look like the sky outside and mirror the weather, without any of the negative effects."

"She read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Ron snickered.

Hermione ignored him and with a smile, continued addressing the curious young girl. " _So…_ When the weather is bad, even if there's a raging blizzard outside, we're all still toasty warm in here."

"That is _so. cool."_ Lily said, and she finally looked away from the ceiling to smile at Hermione. "Are you a teacher here, too?"

Snape made an impatient noise, but everyone else laughed.

"This is Hermione Granger," Harry introduced her with an extremely amused glance at his disgruntled father. "She's the muggle-born I was telling you about – the smartest one in the entire school."

"Did you really say that, Harry?" Hermione asked, blushing.

"Oh, shut up," the twins said in unison, both sporting equally affectionate grins.

"Thank you," his father grumbled.

The group made their way past the four house tables up to the staff table on the raised dais. Having only ever seen the Great Hall from this angle when he had been both shocked and extremely apprehensive when the TriWizard Cup had spit his name out, Harry was actually quite excited to be sitting here. Judging by the looks on his classmate's faces, it seemed as if the feeling was mutual for them, as well.

Instead of running the width of the hall with chairs only on one side, the table had been shrunken and widened so that everyone could see one another as they sat all the way around. Empty golden plates and glittering goblets adorned each place setting, and many large platters twinkled in the candlelight as they graced the middle of the table.

The headmaster's large, throne-like chair was at the table's head, and he invited Jillian and Lily to sit next to him. Jilly made herself comfortable next to the old wizard, and Lily gladly took the spot next to her daughter. Snape took the seat beside Lily, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on Dumbledore's other side. Snape glared peevishly at the twins as they took their places directly across from him. Fred and George seemed to be grinning somewhat wickedly at their old potions professor, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and sat down next to the twins, not wanting to miss the show they had a feeling was coming.

"We're just waiting for a few more–" Dumbledore said, but was interrupted when Remus, Tonks, Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hagrid walked through the doors to the Great Hall, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

"Molly, so good to see you're feeling better!" Kingsley called in his deep, booming voice as they approached the table. The rest echoed his sentiments.

As Remus stepped onto the dais, he moved to Molly's side and bent to kiss her cheek from behind. "Welcome back, old girl," he muttered with a smile. Mrs. Wealsey playfully smacked his hand with a laugh, and Remus moved to take the seat in between Ginny and Tonks. McGonagall sat on Snape's other side, and once again his father looked somewhat irritated with the seating arrangements.

Lily and Jillian were staring wide-eyed at Hagrid, who looked like a bear standing on two legs with his moleskin overcoat and wiry hair. But Tonks waved warmly down the table at them, catching their attention, and promptly asked, "Who's this, then?"

"Everyone, meet Lily and Jillian… The newest in the Weasley clan," Mrs. Weasley introduced with a pleased smile. "Lily and Jillian, meet Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Rubeus Hagrid." She pointed to everyone in turn, and they all greeted the newcomers with a smile and a wave.

" _More_ Weasleys?" Kingsley teased. "How did that happen?" McGonagall leaned over and with a smile, murmured something to the others that Harry couldn't hear.

"I hate the name Nymphadora," Tonks quickly explained to Lily and Jillian, "You can call me Tonks."

"You can call me Jilly-Bean! I like that name better than Jillian," the little girl called back at her from down the table, and with a laugh Tonks winked and said that she would.

Dumbledore took hold of both Mrs. Weasley and Jillian's hands and held them aloft, and the chatter around the table instantly quieted. "There are moments in the long, dark nights when we feel afraid of what we cannot see lurking in the shadows. Yesterday was one such fearful occurrence... However, as everyone here has proven time and time again, the one thing that we can be sure of is that darkness cannot stand in the presence of the light – the day will _always_ dawn once more, no matter how long the night has raged.

"Today we celebrate family both new and old. We remember all that is good and true and strong. Today, we remember why goodness will always win against the evil of this world: because every single one of you are proof that we have something worth fighting for." The headmaster paused and smiled warmly at everyone gathered around the table before him. "Enough of my incessant talking. Let's eat, shall we?"

And with a wave of his hands the platters around them suddenly filled with a delectable and mouth-watering feast. Lily and Jillian gasped yet again, and everyone around the table laughed and smiled at their reactions, knowing that they themselves had been just as shocked and staggered when they had witnessed the spectacular magic of the Great Hall for the first time.

"Lily, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you and your daughter," McGonagall said as she leaned past Snape. "Albus and I helped Severus put all the puzzle pieces together concerning your past. I'm sorry you could not have been with us sooner. But on behalf of everyone, it's so nice to have you with us now."

"Thank you," Lily said with an appreciative smile and a pretty blush. "It's been such an amazing day. We all visited Diagon Alley earlier–"

"Not looking like yourselves, I hope!" McGonagall cried shrilly with a heated glance at Snape. "Only one day after being attacked, Severus–!"

"Calm down before you give yourself a stroke, Minerva," his father said with an irritated sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I used Glamours on Harry and myself. Believe me, we were not recognized."

"That's because people thought you were muggle porn stars," Fred muttered, and George snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Excuse me, muggle _what?"_ McGonagall asked in indignant disbelief.

The glower that Snape gave the twins could have withered even the Whomping Willow, but Fred and George looked somewhat proud of themselves.

"We… uh… imitated _movie_ stars, Professor." Harry said. The exasperation on McGonagall's face as her gaze flicked toward him made him hurry to continue, "But in our defense, we didn't know they were _that_ famous." He felt somewhat guilty that the blame was being thrown at his father's feet when Harry knew perfectly well it didn't _all_ belong there. "Severus and I aren't very familiar with the muggle cinema."

McGonagall simply " _Humf_ "-ed in a very Hermione-ish way and peevishly snatched a bun from a golden dish in front of her.

"So what did you think of Diagon Alley?" Mrs. Weasley asked Lily and Jillian as she grasped the nearest platters of roast chicken, peas, mashed potatoes, and grilled vegetables and started adding heaps of food to all the plates around her, including Jillian's, Lily's, and Snape's. With every scoop of food added to his father's plate, Snape's eyes narrowed and his scowl grew angrier and darker.

"It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" Jilly cried. "We saw the store with all the potion ingredients, and the store where they sell Quit-Quittis – _tuh! –_ the store where they sell brooms and things, and the store with all the animals. But the best part was–"

" _Enough!_ " Snape suddenly shouted. Mrs. Weasley had been shoveling scoop after scoop onto his father's plate, until there was literally a small mountain of food heaped in front of him. "I'm a _man_ , not a never ending pit that needs filling. That's enough food to feed an entire village," he snapped.

"Don't you take that tone with _me_ , Severus Snape!" Mrs. Weasley retorted. "If you're going to be escorting my _family_ around in times of war, you need to keep up your strength! And I've seen you eat – you pick at food like you were a bird instead of a full-grown man."

Snape looked too shocked to reply. Harry knew that there were not many people who would give back as good as they got from his crotchety father, and he was rather impressed with Mrs. Weasley. After a moment Snape picked up his fork and grumbled, "I won't be escorting anyone if I'm the size of a whale and have to _roll_ everywhere I go."

This time, it wasn't just the twins that snorted into their cups.

"Now," Mrs. Weasley turned back to Jilly with an apologetic smile, "What was the best part of today, dear?"

Unfazed, Jillian grinned widely as she replied, "The joke shop!" Snape dropped his fork with a clatter and pinched the bridge of his nose. The teenagers all burst out laughing, but Jillian continued, "They have all _kinds_ of funny things!"

"Oh, I'm aware of everything they sell there," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "Want to know how?" Jilly nodded. "Because my sons, the twins down there – Fred and George – they own that store. They invented almost everything you saw today."

Even Lily was impressed. "Wow, _really?_ You two _invented_ all of that? That's amazing!"

Fred bowed in his seat and George raised his goblet in salute, then aimed a smirk at Snape as he announced, "Cheers, Professor!" Snape only growled at him.

"Don't worry, George," Fred said with a dubious grin. "Professor Snape is just _green_ with envy at our overflowing talent."

With a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, Snape stopped and glared at the two of them. "What talent? You sure fooled me with the lack of effort you put into your schooling." But as he spoke Snape's hair began to turn a very vivid green, from the roots of his hair downward, and his father didn't seem to notice as he scowled at the twins.

Everyone's gaze was wide with shock, but Lily's sudden gasp made Snape turn toward her. Her eyes were glued to his changing hair, and he gently moved his head enough to swing his hair forward, catching sight of the black strands' continuing transformation. Snatching his wand out of his inside sleeve pocket, he murmured a quick, _"Finite,"_ and the green immediately disappeared.

He smirked at the twins' disappointed expressions. "It'll take more than that, I'm afraid."

As he spoke, Harry noticed George make a barely discernable movement under the table. In fact, he wouldn't have seen it had he not been sitting so close. His father brought the forkful of food up to his mouth once again, still smirking at the twins, and the expression on his face when he took a bite was comical. His father sputtered and almost spit the food out, but managed to choke it down with an audible swallow.

"You alright, my boy?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"Fine, Albus," Snape growled, his eyes never leaving the twins. Fred and George were both grinning down at their plates. "My food has just grown a little cold, is all. _Finite!"_ He said again with a bit more force, and a thick torrent of steam suddenly issued from his plate of food.

"So you liked our store, Jilly?" Fred asked with a genuine smile at the young girl.

"Oh yes, very much!" She said excitedly. "I really liked the Whiz-Bang fireworks in the window! And the Pygmy Puffs are _so_ cute!"

Hagrid spoke up from down the table. "I helped breed 'em, y'know. Cute little buggers, even if they don' breathe fire or have three heads or anythin'."

"Pygmy Puff hair and saliva are also very powerful potion ingredients," George mentioned, trying to sound casual and offhand.

"Yeah Professor, perhaps we can send you one. Or five. Heck, maybe we'll even send you an entire litter," Fred continued.

"Do that and you may not be able to walk properly because I will be forced to stick your wands up–"

"Speaking of wands!" Lily hurried to say with a warning glance at Snape, "Severus took us to Ollivander's!"

"Lily accidentally made Mr. Ollivander's hair grow to his knees – even his nose hair," Harry burst out laughing.

"And mum made a bird that pooped on his shoulder," Jilly giggled, but her bright smile waned a bit as she continued, "…and then it exploded." The rest of the table erupted with laughter. Even Snape gave a grudging smile at the memory.

"So you bought a wand?" Remus asked Lily with a warm smile.

She excitedly pulled it from her pocket. "Yes! Dogwood and Unicorn Hair. Mr. Ollivander said it will be good at healing work which is amazing because… well… I'm a nurse in the Emergency Room at the local hospital."

"Really?" Dumbledore said, sounding interested. "Your magic must be very powerful in the healing arts for it to come through even in the muggle world. I do believe that an introduction to Madam Pomfrey is in order," he said to Severus.

"Poppy _has_ mentioned hiring an assistant, Albus," McGonagall said.

The headmaster looked pleased, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "Well Lily, if you ever decide that you'd prefer to work here instead of in the muggle world, please let me know. I have a feeling that Madam Pomfrey would be most pleased to have you."

Lily's cheeks blushed with pleasure and she said sincerely, "Thank you! I will!"

The thought of having Lily here at Hogwarts was an exciting one, and Harry and his friends beamed at each other. Harry then turned and grinned at his family, especially his father. Snape seemed to enjoy the thought of Lily being here as well, for he gave her a warm smile.

"Didn't Mr. Ollivander also say that your wand would be good at charm work?" Harry asked, and Lily nodded.

"Ah, charms," Fred sighed, and the twins were closely eyeing Snape as he reached out and plucked a Cream Puff from one of the dessert trays. "We owe so much of our success to that delightful subject."

Snape finally seemed to feel their gazes, for his eyes flicked to theirs and narrowed suspiciously as he slowly brought the Custard Cream up to his lips and took a bite. The twins seemed to sit up straighter, as if waiting for something to happen. But when nothing did they glanced at each other in confused disappointment as they slumped back into their seats.

George looked to Lily as he, too, plucked a Custard Cream from the dessert tray. "Most of our items use charms in one form or another, even if it's not the main function of the product."

The half-smile that slid onto his father's face as he watched George bring the Custard Cream to his mouth was the only warning of what was about to happen.

As he bit into the puffy little pastry, George suddenly transformed with a loud _pop!_ into a giant canary. Lily and Jillian cried out in shock. The canary's beady little eyes – which in this case were the size of golf balls – turned toward his twin, who looked equally as shocked as the others as the table erupted with laughter. The canary gave a loud squawk, then flapped his wings and began to tweet and titter loudly at his brother. The movements caused a small eruption of feathers to explode and float through the air around him, which only made everyone laugh all the harder.

" _I_ didn't make a mistake!" Fred cried indignantly at the giant yellow canary. "The professor knew what we were doing, bird brain!"

At that moment George began to molt, and as the feathers fell from his body he sat there with his twin, both looking accusingly at Harry's father.

Snape shrugged as he took another bite of his perfectly ordinary Custard Cream, smirking arrogantly across at the twins as he purposefully took his time chewing and swallowing. "You may be little idiots, but you're _bold_ little idiots. You've got nerve… I'll give you that. _Cheeky little prats._ " The twins sat there fuming as the laughter continued around them. The smirk on Snape's face lingered as he took another bite of his Custard Cream. After a moment, Fred and George calmed and chuckled as they looked at their old potions professor with new appreciation.

"You-Know-Who better not try to turn _you_ into a canary," George muttered.

"It may just be the last thing he ever does," continued Fred.

The table burst with laughter again, and the chatter began in earnest. Harry couldn't help but sit back and revel in the feeling of being surrounded by the people he loved. Dumbledore was right. _This –_ this wonderfully contented moment among friends and family – was what they were fighting for. Snape caught his eye and, judging by the genuine smile that came to his lips, Harry couldn't help but think that his father was feeling the exact same way. They smiled knowingly at each other.

Suddenly a single tawny owl swooped through the tall archways near the ceiling, flying directly toward the head table. Flying low, it dropped a rolled up newspaper in Hermione's lap and swiftly flew back from where it had come.

"What…?" Hermione asked as she unrolled a late edition of the Evening Prophet, and the table suddenly went quiet.

"What's happened, Hermione?" Tonks called as Hermione's face disappeared behind the paper as she held it up to read.

After a moment she murmured, "I'm afraid it's something terrible." And she slapped the paper down against the table, her shoulders shaking as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. There, next to a large photo of the family and emblazoned on the front page in big bold letters, was an article entitled, "BRAD PITT: DAFT OR DANGEROUS? FAMOUS MUGGLE STAR'S SECRET WIZARD LIFE."

Snape's head fell onto his arms with a groan as everyone around the table began laughing once again.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

"The two of you are exceptionally talented cooks. So I'm positive that you both will make excellent potioneers. I want you to work together to brew Dreamless Sleep," Snape announced to Harry and Lily, slipping easily into teaching-mode. The two immediately began collecting ingredients and tools to bring to their shared brewing station along the wall in the basement lab of Spinner's End.

Although well-stocked and perfect for his brewing needs, Snape had always considered the lab to be somewhat cold and sterile. But as he watched his son and the love of his adult life murmur and laugh alongside one another in excited anticipation, he couldn't help thinking how much warmer the lab felt – as if the room itself was celebrating the addition of a family within its walls.

"What can I do?" Jilly asked earnestly beside him at the center work station.

" _You,_ little miss, have the most important job: you're going to help me make my special bruising ointment for the hospital wing."

"We're making something for Hogwarts?" The girl asked excitedly, and Snape nodded with a smile as he conjured a small stool like the one in her apartment. The bruising ointment was a perfect beginner's potion, as the ingredients were simple and only required to be ground with a mortar and pestle. Jilly grinned elatedly as he walked her through each step in the process, and couldn't help a certain paternal pride as she quickly got to work.

Snape reflected on the past few days as he watched his family work. In all honesty, he had not been happy about the prospect of bringing Lily and Jillian to Spinner's End. It was a house that held such horrendous secrets and memories, and Snape had hated this place for as long as he could remember. It was for this reason that he'd never bothered to maintain or update it after his mother died. It was simply a space for him to _exist_ during the summer months, and he'd never had any intention of bringing anyone here – other than Harry, of course, but that had been out of necessity since he'd had no alternative.

When the apartment next door to Lily's had sprung a leak and she'd told he and Harry that she and Jilly had to stay in a run-down motel for a few days while it was fixed, Harry's rash Gryffindor chivalry immediately sprang into action.

"Why don't you stay with us?" He asked. "That would be ok, right Dad?"

Harry was lucky that it was summertime, for Snape had almost caught himself snarling, _"Fifty points from Gryffindor,"_ as he gave his son his darkest and most irritated sneer.

"Honestly Severus, its fine," Lily was quick to say. Those beautiful green eyes looked up at him in assurance. "I've been taking care of myself since I was young. Jilly and I will be alright at the motel. Its– "

"Of course you can stay with us," Snape heard himself saying.

 _What?_

"Are you sure? Honestly, you don't have to…"

"Yes, I'm sure." _Not even in the slightest._ "Come to my house when the workers get there tomorrow."

But the way she smiled up at him made the nerves momentarily settle. "Ok then," she murmured, and Jilly had cheered in excitement.

The next day came sooner than Snape would have liked as he and Harry started preparing the bleak, shabby house for their arrival. After teaching Harry the spell, Snape allowed him to transform his bed into a bunk bed. However, Harry hadn't been able to correctly perform the color-changing charm on the blankets, so Snape had done it for him – changing both bunks to the pink princess sheets he'd seen in Jilly's room.

"Hey!" Harry had cried in horror, tossing a pillow shaped like a pink and purple crown at Snape's face. His son's appalled expression did wonders for his mood, and Snape couldn't help but laugh.

"I guess you'd better learn how to do the spell properly before they get here, or it's staying like that," Snape muttered with an amused smirk. He told Harry later that he was almost disappointed at how quickly his son had picked the spell up after that – but secretly he was quite pleased with the boy.

His amusement at Harry's mortification didn't last long, and Snape couldn't keep himself from nervously contemplating what the girls would think about the dreary, dilapidated house. Would Lily be disappointed? Would he see regret lingering in her eyes when she looked around? Perhaps she'd finally start to realize what a poor choice she'd made in him…

Convinced of the disappointment he knew she'd feel, Snape's mood had darkened considerably by the time they heard the knock on the front door later that afternoon. Harry whipped out his wand in alarm when two green orbs the size of a ping pong ball appeared over Snape's shoulder and flashed twice before disappearing.

"What was that thing?" He asked in surprise.

"Identification charm," Snape muttered, rising from his seat to answer the door. He supposed that since Harry would be living with him here at Spinner's End over the summer for the next few years, he ought to know what the orbs meant. So he paused while going to the door to listlessly explain, "Green means a witch or wizard we trust; yellow is a muggle; red means Death Eaters." Snape saw the sudden apprehension on his son's face at the mention of Death Eaters, but he didn't stop to offer any reassurance.

Turning the corner into the entrance hall, Snape paused with his hand on the door handle to steel himself for the disenchantment he knew he'd soon be seeing on Lily's face. After a deep breath, he opened the door.

"Hi Severus!" Jilly cried, bouncing up and down on her toes in excitement. Lily placed her hands on the girl's shoulders to settle her, and smiled warmly up at him. He attempted to smile back, but had a feeling it came out looking more like a grimace.

"Well… come in, then." He hadn't meant for it to sound so sharp. Lily ushered Jillian through the door, and his son hurried forward to greet them. Snape made an effort to gentle his voice as he said, "Harry, why don't you take Jilly upstairs and show her where she can put her things?"

"Sure. C'mon Jilly-Bean," Harry said with a wink, and the small girl giggled.

An awkward silence descended between him and Lily as their children ran up the stairs and left them in the entrance hall. Snape found himself looking around anywhere but at her, and it was only with immense effort that he stopped his fidgeting. Lily smiled warmly up at him when he finally met her gaze.

"Well… Yes… I'll show you around," he said gruffly, and he pushed the door to the right open but did not actually move into the room. A wave of insecurity washed through him once again, and his voice sounded self-conscious even to his own ears when he explained, "This is my office–"

"Oh _wow!"_ Lily said, leaning into the room to peek around. She inadvertently brought herself within inches of him, squeezing both of their bodies tightly within the doorframe. Her hair tickled Snape's nose and he clearly caught the scent of lavender.

 _So pure and wholesome and untainted… And I'm bringing her into the deepest pits of Hell._ Snape closed his eyes in shame. _I deserve to rot for this._

"Did you read all those?" Lily asked in innocent incredulity, motioning to the books lining the walls.

"Of course," he snapped. "Why? Does that surprise you?"

Lily's eyes flicked to his. Instead of the indignant uncertainty that he'd been expecting, he saw open curiosity in their depths. "Not in the slightest," she murmured as she examined him with those piercing green eyes.

Snape suddenly felt very exposed. He cleared his throat and moved away from her toward the sitting room. "Well… Then I suppose it won't shock you to see even more books," he said by way of introduction.

" _More?"_ She murmured as her eyes roamed the sitting room library, settling on the worn out chair by the fire. "How on earth did you ever have the time?"

"Not all of us were entitled to wonderful childhoods full of friends and playdates!" He retorted bitterly as he ran an aggravated hand through his hair.

Lily tilted her head to the side, openly examining him once again without any heat or anger. "Is _that_ what you think my childhood at the orphanage was like?"

Snape clenched his jaw as he stared at the books surrounding them. Of course he didn't think that. He just… Sighing, Snape ran another hand through his hair, feeling very small and lost. These books were so much more than just words on pages – they were a way to escape his pain and channel his overwhelming anger; friends in moments when he had none; reminders of his pitiful, lonely, loveless existence. The wall of books was a literal barrier between him and the outside world, and Lily's presence among them only seemed to upset the barricades he'd worked so hard throughout his life to build.

"Severus…" Lily murmured softly as she came to stand in front of him. He refused to meet her gaze, so Lily raised her hand and gently laid her palm against his cheek. Tender green looked deeply into hesitant black as she said, "I know you haven't had an easy life. I don't judge you for it. I don't know the details – and I'm not demanding that you tell me. It doesn't matter because whatever happened, it made you into the man you are today…" He chuckled humorlessly and looked away, but she continued, "The man that I love with all my heart and want to spend the rest of my life with."

Snape's shocked gaze came back to rest on the utterly devoted, extremely patient, unconditionally loving woman standing before him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at her. "I don't deserve you," he muttered in a guttural whisper. "You coul have anyone you wanted, why–?"

But she cut him off, crushing her lips against his own in answer. She wound her arms about his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing her luscious body against his own rough planes and edges. Snape held her tightly as something broke inside him, and with a growl his tongue delved into her willing mouth, dancing and sliding against her warmth and wetness.

The sudden clearing of a throat brought them back from the brink. Although they knew they were no longer alone, the pair parted slowly and for long moments only looked at one another. Lily blushed as she smiled shyly up at him, and Snape couldn't help but arch a brow at her sudden bashfulness when she had been more than willing only moments before.

He met Harry's stare and saw the ridiculously large, sappy grin across his son's face.

"What?" He growled at the boy.

"You two are worse than kids my age," Harry said with a laugh. "I'll be sure to let you in on all the good, private snogging spots at school – _Hey!"_ He cried, ducking as Snape sent a well-aimed toenail-growing hex his way. But the smile was still firmly in place as Harry ambled down the last of the stairs, not realizing the weight of his own words as he casually declared with a shrug, "It's nice having parents that aren't afraid to show how much they love each other."

. . . . .

Snape smiled to himself as he allowed the feeling of the last few days to wash over him. He couldn't remember ever feeling more… _complete._ They settled so easily into their family roles that, as new as it was for everyone, it felt as if they'd been a family for as long as he could remember. Snape was beginning to feel like the father of two amazing children who constantly made him laugh, made him proud, or made him crazy.

And he also realized that despite his fears, he had the unwavering love of a spectacular woman. As much as he'd feared the thought of having Lily in a place he loathed, it was actually quite nice – she knew him better than he realized, and anytime the lingering memories caused him to slip into a foul mood, she'd press her curves up against him and kiss him senseless. Trying not to be caught by the kids had become a sort of game. In such a small house it usually didn't last long, but they had fun attempting it, nonetheless. Snape felt like one of the love-struck teenagers he usually loathed, and he suddenly found that fact incredibly amusing.

He shook himself from his reverie as he realized that Lily and Harry had gathered all their supplies and were looking expectantly at him from their brewing station. He hurried to say, "I chose Dreamless Sleep because my old stores may have spoiled. Harry, turn to page two-hundred-and-fifty-six in your potions book." He gazed at Lily and explained, "This will be good practice, since you will often be brewing this potion to use in the hospital wing." He smiled warmly at her, still surprised at himself that he was so keen on the idea of working alongside her at Hogwarts come September.

After many conversations, she had finally decided to accept the job, and Severus had passed the message on to Dumbledore when he'd floo'd to the Burrow with the older wizard earlier that morning. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at the news and for once, the cheerful look didn't irritate Snape in the slightest.

Unfortunately however, the mood didn't last. Even with Dumbledore helping, Snape's wards refused to take hold at the Burrow, which meant the Weasleys would have to stay with their Aunt Muriel a while longer. From what he and Dumbledore could determine, there were so many layers of magical residue at the Burrow that one spell or another was disrupting the wards that Severus was trying to place there. Finding out which spell meant days of work, methodically removing each charm one at a time and trying the wards again until they discovered the problem and could ultimately fix it. The two wizards had decided to begin the large undertaking the very next day.

But now, in this moment, Snape wanting nothing more than to enjoy time spent with his family. He was determined to make good on his promise to help Harry hone the potion-making skills he'd need to become an Auror. And he couldn't deny that Lily and Jillian's eagerness to learn a subject that he was so passionate about also pleased him immensely.

"We need two sprigs of lavender and a measure of melaleuca bark," he told Jilly with a smile, and was delighted to see that she instinctively understood the wrist movements needed to properly crush the ingredients with the mortar. "Good. Grind them both together until you have a fine powder, and then we will blend them with the chopped chamomile flowers and the arnica ointment."

Snape strode over to Harry and Lily in order to check their progress with the Dreamless Sleep potion. "Have you added the flobberworm mucus yet? Oh, Harry – I know the book says to _chop_ the valerian, but I find that it juices better if you crush it with the flat of your blade. Yes, like that. A little more… Good. And Lily, stir just a tad slower… Perfect. Also, when Harry adds the lavender, be sure to add one counterclockwise stir for every–"

Two red orbs suddenly appeared over his shoulder and slowly pulsated twice before fading away, and Snape's words died in his throat. Harry's wide, horrified gaze collided with his own, but Lily's brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced between the two of them.

"Dad…"

"Harry, stay here with Lily and Jillian," Snape commanded in a murmur, but Harry immediately got to his feet.

"What? No… I…what if–?"

Snape placed his hands on his son's shoulders, and it didn't take a Legilimens to see that the boy was scared for him. "Harry… I need you _here_ to watch over Lily and Jillian… keep them safe." _And I need to keep YOU safe,_ he thought frantically, but somehow he was able to keep his face masterfully calm.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, but then took a deep breath and nodded his acquiescence. "I have my cloak, Dad. I've carried it on me since the Burrow. I'll listen just in case you need me."

Snape couldn't bring himself to say anything to his son, knowing that it would be a lie. So with a tightly clenched jaw, he nodded jerkily.

Snape saw Jilly hurry to her mother's side as he rushed past her to the stairs. Jumping the first two, he turned to look back at his family. With an apologetic glance at his son he quickly murmured, _"Abscondaris."_ The white marble slabs along the floor and walls began to fold in on themselves before Harry looked wildly around realized what was happening.

" _Dad_ – _NO!"_

His boy lunged for the stairs but at that moment the potions lab closed in on itself, blocking Harry's frantic face from Snape's view. A dark, damp muggle basement took the place of the well-lit potions lab.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Snape did his best to quickly tuck his feelings and memories behind his Occlumency shields, but he found it incredibly difficult to calm himself with the people he loved most in life only mere feet away from the unknown danger on the other side of the door. He did his best to compose his turbulent emotions as he walked through the sitting room, trying desperately to still the frenzied panic swirling inside him as he made his way to the door.

As Snape reached for the handle, he paused and allowed his hand to hover just above it as he took one last breath, before grasping the metal and opening the door just a crack. What he saw astonished him, and he couldn't have been more stunned had he seen a dragon standing on his doorstep.

"Narcissa!" he said, opening the door a little wider, so that the light from the entrance hall fell upon her and–

 _His heart clenched painfully._

–Her sister, Bellatrix.


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

 _ ****Author's Note: This chapter is based off Chapter 2 in**_ _ **Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_ _ **, entitled "Spinner's End". No copyright infringement intended. I'm just frolicking within the playground with all the kids that JK created.**_

 _ **On another note, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of the kind words and sweet reviews! They've meant more to me than you know, especially with so much worry and uncertainty currently in my life regarding the man that I am MADLY in love with (in this case, the father of my children – not Severus Snape. Although I understand if that was your first thought, lol.) Thank you, my lovely readers, for always putting a smile on my face. Xoxoxo**_

"Severus," Narcissa said in a strained whisper, throwing back her hood. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."

The woman looked ragged. Her hair, which was normally set atop her head in regally intricate styles, hung tangled and limp about her face. Dark smudges stained the delicate skin beneath her eyes like vivid bruises. She had lost the arrogant luster that normally ignited his irritation whenever he was in her presence, and Snape couldn't help but feel sorry for the pitiful creature that the woman had become.

"Of course," he murmured, and he stood back to allow her to pass him into the house. Bellatrix, her eyes glinting at Snape from the shadow of her hood, followed close behind without invitation.

"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.

"Bellatrix," he replied, his lip curling into a mocking sneer as he closed the door behind her with a snap. The urge to reach out and strangle the woman for what she did to his son was almost overwhelming but, with difficulty, he was able to tamp it down.

Snape gestured to the threadbare sofas. Narcissa immediately unclasped her cloak and cast it aside as if it had been trying to choke the life from her, then collapsed upon the sofa and tightly clutched her trembling hands within her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood slowly, never taking her sharp and suspicious gaze off Snape.

"So," Snape said as he settled himself across from them on the opposite sofa. "What can I do for you?"

"We… we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked in a quavering voice.

"Of course," Snape replied, his gaze now moving to Bellatrix, who had abandoned her post behind her sister and was now wandering the edges of the sitting room, leering at the shabby, well-used furniture and books. She prowled like a predator on the hunt for prey. Although her inspection made him uneasy, he plastered an indifferent, somewhat amused look upon his face.

Suddenly there was a muffled bang from the kitchen, and it was with extreme difficulty that he didn't jump. Thankfully neither of the sisters seemed to have heard it.

 _Harry… Damn the boy! He must be trying to unlock the spell to the lab. His reckless bravery and foolish pride are going to get him killed!_

Rising slowly and easily to his feet Snape murmured, "I've been remiss in my duties as host. Please allow me to retrieve some drinks." And he made his way to the kitchen, being sure not to look too hurried.

But the moment he rounded the corner he hurried to the basement door and managed a wordless, _"Muffliato!"_ He then made sure to make plenty of noise, banging and clinking the glasses as he placed them on the tray with the bottle of wine, just in case. Catching snippets of hissed conversation as he once again entered the sitting room, Snape couldn't help but grimly smile at the predictability of what he heard.

"…must not do this, you cannot trust him!"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?"

"Of course he trusts me," Snape interjected as he poured three glasses of the blood-red wine. "Through all these years, the Dark Lord acknowledges that I have played my part as Dumbledore's stooge very well. Long ago I spun the headmaster a tale of deepest remorse, and the old fool has embraced me with open arms ever since. For fifteen years, he has never stopped trusting the man he believes me to be – therein lies my greatest value to the Dark Lord." He handed them each a filled glass, but as Bellatrix grasped hers, Snape refused to release it as he narrowed his eyes and murmured, "Yes… The Dark Lord trusts me, Bella. You would do well to remember that."

She looked unconvinced as she pulled her glass from his fingers. He raised his wine and saluted her with a sardonic smile.

"To the Dark Lord," he said, draining the glass and secretly praying that the liquid would assuage his nervous tension.

The sisters murmured the same toast as he eased himself slowly back onto the sofa opposite them. Like him, Narcissa drained her glass. But Bellatrix only sipped the dark liquid, her eyes flicking suspiciously over the rim of her goblet between Snape and her sister.

As Snape leaned forward to pour Narcissa more wine, the harried woman took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, as if worried her courage would desert her, she rushed to say, "Severus, I'm sorry to come here like this, I know I ought not to be here. I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but–"

"Then you should hold your tongue!" snarled Bellatrix.

Although his heart was racing, Snape kept his face blank and impassive, not daring to show any clue that he hadn't the faintest hint of what they were talking about.

Narcissa's eyes never left his own. Her face eloquent with despair, she murmured, "I think you are the only one who can help me, Severus. I have nowhere else to turn."

"You have _me_!" Bellatrix cried as she came around the sofa and fell to her knees before her sister. For the first time that Snape could ever remember, he saw real, human emotion playing on her face. Narcissa cried out in anguish and covered her face with her hands as Bellatrix begged, "Please, Cissy! You don't need to do this! I can speak to the Dark Lord! He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful–"

Remembering the last Death Eater's meeting – and wanting to keep Narcissa talking in order to gather information – Snape delicately inflected his voice to show his disbelief as he asked, "Does he…? Does he _still,_ after the fiasco at the blood traitor's home?"

Bellatrix flushed and whipped around face Snape as she passionately replied, "He _knows_ he can trust me! I, who spent so many years in Azkaban for him!"

"Indeed, that was most admirable of you," Snape responded in a falsely bored voice. Inspecting his fingernails he continued, "Of course, you were completely useless to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine."

 _"Gesture!"_ Bellatrix shrieked indignantly, but Snape didn't allow her to continue as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, staring intently at Narcissa.

"Narcissa," he murmured quietly, despite her sister's continued furious sputtering. The woman slowly raised her face from her hands and gazed at him imploringly as two fat tears slipped silently down her cheeks. "You know your sister's days as the Dark Lord's favorite are over." At this, Bellatrix jumped to her feet, her eyes bulging as she gasped and choked in outrage. Snape paid her no mind and continued, "You've known it since the last Death Eater's meeting. But you came here to ask for my help… _Mine,_ as I am still in a potion close enough to the Dark Lord to offer it."

Narcissa swallowed hard, suddenly looking very nervous. "The Dark Lord wishes no one to know of the plan. It is… very secret. He has forbidden us to speak of it–"

Knowing what the Dark Lord was capable of concerning tabooed words and the enchantments he could place upon them, Snape was quick to interject, "If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, then you ought not to speak."

Narcissa gasped as if he had doused her with a bucket of ice water. Bellatrix seemed just as shocked as her sister, for there were long moments of heavy silence. Snape rose quickly to his feet and turned his back to the women, knowing he would be unable to keep his features calmly schooled in that moment.

 _The Dark Lord is devising a plan._

 _This is not good._

Suddenly Bellatrix muttered, "You were told not to talk Narcissa, so hold your silence. Even Snape says so…"

Snape turned around to face them. He knew he was taking a major risk, but he didn't see any other choice. "It so happens that I know of the plan," Snape boldly lied, trying to sound confident. "I am one of the few that the Dark Lord has told."

"I thought you must know!" breathed Narcissa with a glance at her sister. She stood from the sofa and hurried to Snape. "He trusts you so, Severus… Of course you must know about the plan!"

"Youknow about the plan?" asked Bellatrix in disbelief. _"You?"_

"Certainly," replied Snape. "But what help do you require of me, Narcissa? I'm afraid that if you are imagining that I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, then there is no hope, none at all."

"Severus," she whispered, tears now sliding freely down her pale cheeks. "My son… my only child…" And she began to cry in earnest, gazing beseechingly up at him.

 _So the plan has something to do with Draco. And it is dangerous, very dangerous…_

"If Draco succeeds," Snape responded slowly, choosing his words carefully so as not to give himself away, "then he will be honored above all others."

"But he won't succeed!" sobbed Narcissa. "How can he? He is only a boy, he has no idea what lies in store! It's too dangerous! The Dark Lord himself has not even been able to accomplish the task!" Loosing what little self-restraint she still possessed, Narcissa clutched the front of Snape's robes with a strong grip that belied her small stature, and with wide eyes she began to plead. Snape thought she looked a bit crazed as she looked up at him and cried, "You could do it instead of Draco! You would succeed, of course you would, and the Dark Lord would reward you beyond all of us!"

 _What has the Dark Lord been unable to accomplish that would cause Narcissa to act as if her son was headed toward certain death?_

Looking down into the woman's tearstained face, Snape took another risk and prayed it would garner more information. "The Dark Lord intends me to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I will be able to remain at Hogwarts a little longer as a spy."

"In other words, it doesn't matter to the Dark Lord if Draco is killed!" Narcissa crumpled, falling at Snape's feet, weeping and moaning on the floor. With a scream of despair she clutched at her tangled hair and wailed, "My son… my only son!"

Thinking of Harry and Jillian, Snape couldn't pretend to himself that he was not moved by the sight of her, as he was now intimately aware of the kind of love that was driving her to madness. He knew firsthand the willingness of a parent to trade their very life, if it meant keeping their child safe. He couldn't help the surge of pity and compassion he felt for the woman's plight.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Snape knelt down next to Narcissa and murmured, "It might be possible for me to help Draco."

 _What are you doing?! You don't even know what you'd be helping him with, you sentimental imbecile!_

But Narcissa was looking at him, her eyes huge. "Severus – oh, Severus – you would help him? Would you look after him, see that he comes to no harm?"

"I…" He could feel Bellatrix starting down at him in doubtful suspicion, and he dared not make eye contact for fear that she would see right through his feeble shields in his moment of nervous uncertainty. Swallowing hard, Snape knew there was no away around Narcissa's question without arousing suspicion. "I can try."

Narcissa seized his hand in both of hers and pressed it to her lips. "If you are there to protect him… Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

Snape's expression went blank, unreadable, although his heart was hammering in his chest hard enough to make him wonder why they couldn't hear it. "The Unbreakable Vow?"

Bellatrix let out a cackle of triumphant laughter before sneering down at Snape. "Aren't you listening, Cissy? Oh, he'll _try_ to help Draco, I'm sure. As long as it doesn't require any risk to his own skin–"

A muffled bang from below followed by the sound of breaking glass caught all of their attentions, and Snape's breath hitched in his chest. _Harry was making enough noise that even the Muffliato couldn't conceal it. What in Merlin's name was the boy doing?! Could he not follow a simple direction that would keep his own stupid, stubborn hide safe?_

Bellatrix's eyes snapped to his in mistrust. "I thought you said we were alone?" she hissed in an angry whisper.

"Alley cat," he muttered, trying to sound as if it was a common exasperating occurrence. Bellatrix didn't seem convinced however, and with wand raised, she began to stalk slowly toward the kitchen.

Snape's heart stopped. Spinner's End was massively protected from the outside, but Snape had never bothered to raise the house's defenses from within. As hidden as the lab was, it wouldn't take much for Bellatrix to discover the truth.

 _My family. Oh my God…_

Narcissa's tear-filled blue eyes were fixed upon her sister, but she continued to clutch desperately at Snape's hand. The terror of seeing Bellatrix advance threateningly toward the people he loved fueled him to speak before he'd even had a chance to consider the consequences.

"I'll do it."

 _"What?"_ Bellatrix spun around to stare down at him.

"I'll make the Unbreakable Vow."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and even Narcissa seemed shocked as he moved to grasp her by the wrist. She looked down at his hand on her forearm for a long, silent moment before her fingers mirrored the gesture, joining them for the spell.

"You will need your wand, Bella… if you consent to be our Bonder, that is." Snape muttered, trying to impart as much of his typical cold sneer into his words as his pounding heart would allow. _Whatever it takes to keep her from heading toward the kitchen. I'll do anything she wants…_

Looking astonished, Bellatrix drew her wand and stepped forward. Snape desperately tried to hide the relief flooding through him. Bellatrix stood over them, and the tip of her wand began to glow as she placed it lightly upon their linked hands.

"Will you, Severus Snape, watch over Draco Malfoy, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?" she murmured.

Once again, the fact that he had absolutely no idea what he was swearing to hit him like a kick to the gut from a rampaging centaur. But his hesitance was beginning to arouse another suspicious look from Bellatrix, so he had no other choice but to continue.

"I will."

A thin tongue of brilliant light shot from her wand and wound its way around he and Narcissa's joined hands.

Bellatrix continued. "And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will," Snape murmured again.

A second tongue of brilliant light burst from her wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

Narcissa suddenly spoke up, and although tears still rolled down her face and her hand trembled within his own, her voice was strong. "And… should it prove necessary… if it seems Draco will fail… will _you_ carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

Snape's grip tightened on her forearm. His chest constricted painfully so that he could barely draw breath. _What in Merlin's name am I swearing to…?_ With both sister's eyes on him, he did his best to sound as normal as possible when he muttered, "I will…"

A last tongue of brilliant light issued forth from the wand and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands like a fiery rope. The glow intensified for a moment, and Snape could clearly feel the heat of it against his skin as he squinted against the sudden intensity.

Then the brilliant light dimmed, and the chain seemed to melt into his and Narcissa's hands. Snape smothered the gasp that almost escaped him when he felt the chain latch onto something deep inside and settle there, threatening and perfectly poised to end his life if he did not fulfill the terms of the Vow.

"Draco should be proud," said Bellatrix indifferently as she tucked her wand away. "The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: he isn't shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at the prospect–"

"That's because he is a _teenager_ and feels invincible!" Narcissa cried shrilly as she clambered to her feet, obviously still rattled by Draco's plight – even with Snape now on her son's side. She stalked threateningly toward her sister, daring her to say anything more. "There has been no grown wizard that has been able to accomplish the task! How can _my son_ – an underage, unqualified wizard – still just a _boy! –_ possibly do it when neither Grindlewald nor the Dark Lord have been able to kill Dumbledore?!"

The sisters were so intent on each other that they did not notice when Snape staggered at Narcissa's words as he rose to his feet.

 _ **KILL**_ _Dumbledore?_

 _No… Oh God, no! What have I done?!_

"You should be proud!" said Bellatrix ruthlessly to her sister. She stared at Narcissa with a disgusted look on her face. "If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up in service to the Dark Lord!"

The horror of the realization of what he'd just sworn to, combined with the weight of the Vow's chain wrapped tightly around his heart, made Snape reckless, driving all thought of caution from his mind.

"Such a ridiculous sentiment so easily thrown about from a woman that was never able to produce a child of her own!" he spat at Bellatrix, his raging emotions bubbling perilously close to the surface.

Bellatrix stared at him, her face paling beneath his heated glare. But then her eyes narrowed and her cheeks began to burn crimson. "How _dare_ you speak to me like that–"

"You are a disgrace to your house, Bellatrix! You spew such repulsive venom at your sister, accuse her of being disloyal, when all she wants is to protect her son. At least she did not fail in her duty to produce a Pureblood child–!"

He didn't have a chance to finish.

Bellatrix let out a shriek of rage and began rapidly firing spells at him from across the room. He was prepared for her attack, had even hoped for it in his current frame of mind. But the terror he felt – for his family, for Dumbledore, for the very future of the Wizarding world – was like shards of glass cutting painfully away at his brain. Snape's mind was not solely on the fight and his reactions were sluggish. In a matter of moments, he was hit.

" _Crucio!"_

He crumpled instantly, his limbs flailing as a thousand heated knives pierced him, flaying his skin from his very bones. He was no stranger to this particular pain, having known it intimately after serving the Dark Lord for so long. The pain helped to silence the chaos in his mind, allowing him to focus clearly for the first time since he'd locked his family in the lab below.

Bellatrix's face was contorted in rage, her eyes bloodshot, her mouth twisted in fury. A look of demented triumph glazed her eyes as she approached him, her wand pointed to continue her torment. Snape knew that she enjoyed hearing the screams of her victims, so he clenched his jaw and refused to make a sound as the agony continued to tear through him.

"You bastard! _Now_ you have nothing to say?" she screamed down at him. "I swear I will make you scream before I kill you, Snape!"

His hands twisted in on themselves, his long, skillful fingers hideously contorting into claw-like points that forced his fingers to pop and crack as the bones dislocated. But still, Snape refused to scream.

"Bella, _don't!"_

Narcissa was suddenly there beside Bellatrix, desperately attempting to pull her sister away from Snape's thrashing body. Bellatrix turned, interrupting the spell as she hurled her sister away from her. She shoved the other woman with such force that her sister crashed into a bookcase, causing it to shudder and teeter dangerously above her as she tumbled to the floor. Narcissa was knocked out cold by the impact.

Snape gasped a deep, rattling breath as the spell was unintentionally released. He awkwardly grasped his wand in his swollen, trembling fingers and sent a hail of sharp ice shards at Bellatrix as he tried to knock her off her feet.

" _Glacius Testa!"_ he muttered in a weak voice.

The large chunks of ice pummeled her body before breaking apart against the wall. A particularly heavy chunk hit her squarely in the side of the head, staggering her. Snape repeated the spell as he desperately tried to get to his feet. But Bellatrix was not as dazed by the heavy impact as he'd hoped.

" _Incendio!"_ she cried, flinging the spell over her shoulder as she attempted to protect herself from the chunks of ice bombarding her body. The spell flew well past the ice shards, instead igniting a bookcase along the far wall. The flames quickly grew to devour the dry, aged pages of the extensive library.

Snape's gaze was fixed by the fire as it jumped from one book case to the next, so much so that he didn't hear Bellatrix's shout.

" _CRUCIO MAXIMA!"_

Crumpling to the floor once again, his limbs stiffened in agony and his back arched off the ground. He heard a piercing, guttural scream, only realizing it came from him when something in his raw throat tore open and he almost choked on his own blood. His body began to thrash and buck uncontrollably. Within seconds his mind was no longer his own, and mental torment merged with the physical anguish, delving into his brain with the force of an axe to the skull.

 _Jillian being passed around among the particular few Death Eaters that enjoyed their sickening predilection for children. He could clearly hear her begging them to stop as she cried out for her mother… for him…_

" _NO! Let her go! I'll fucking kill you!" But his struggles to get to her were as useless as trying to capture water with a sieve. The more he fought to get to her, the father away she seemed to be._

 _Suddenly the scene changed. Lily was surrounded by a pack of werewolves, her eyes huge and fearful as they transformed around her. She was calling his name, but her pleading cries for help were drowned out by their snarling and snapping jaws. Without warning they converged and tore her to pieces, and her bloodcurdling screams brought him to hysterics._

" _NOOOO! I'm coming – oh my God – no! LILY!" But his struggles were in vain once again._

 _Now it was Harry, crumpled and bleeding at the Dark Lord's feet as the Death Eaters gathered eerily around them. His son was battered and bloody as he repeatedly called for Snape in a rasping whisper._

" _Dad…"_

" _Harry, I'm here!"_

 _Harry seemed to hear him, and it was even worse than the pointless struggles of before. His son tried desperately to crawl toward him to safety. But the Dark Lord laughed as he pushed Harry flat with a dirty foot. Harry was too weak to fight back, and the Dark Lord nudged him with his toes and flipped him over to stare down into his pain-filled, hazy eyes._

" _GET OFF HIM, you fucking monster!" Snape screamed. "I'll rip you limb from limb, you snakelike bastard!" But the Dark Lord did not hear him._

" _There is no escape, Harry Potter. You will die. And all those you claim to love will perish alongside you."_

" _Dad… Help me…"_

 _The Dark Lord raised his wand, the red in his eyes gleaming as a malicious smile played upon his lipless mouth. "Avada–"_

"Bellatrix, stop!"

A body collided with Bellatrix above him, knocking the woman off her feet. Snape rolled to his side and vomited the moment he was released from the curse, panting loudly and choking on the smoke billowing throughout the sitting room. His limbs continued to tremble and jerk uncontrollably, and Snape was too weak to do anything more than lay there gasping for breath.

" _Stop,_ Bella!" Narcissa cried as she threw her arms around her bucking sister, heaving her away from Snape and desperately trying to prevent Bellatrix from attacking him again. Blood trickled from beneath her silver hair into her eye, but still she refused to let go. "Think of Draco!" she urged. "He needs Severus' help – you have to stop this! We _need_ him!"

Bellatrix threw her sister off with an incensed scream, panting fiercely as she glared down at Snape's prone form. She stood over him for what seemed like an eternity as the fire began to rage in the house around them. As Snape stared helplessly up at her, the flames engulfing all his worldly possessions behind her, Bellatrix truly looked like the devil she was.

With a final, feral scream, she spat at him as he lay sprawled at her feet. Then spun on the spot and was gone.

"Severus!" Narcissa dropped to her knees next to him, glancing fearfully at the engulfing flames. "Your house… We must go!"

"No," he gasped, but the word was so feeble that she didn't hear it. _No!_ _My family! I WON'T LEAVE THEM!_ He screamed, but it was useless, for the words were only inside his head and his traitorous body was too depleted and weak to actually speak them. 

Using her wand, Narcissa was able to get him to his feet before wrapping an arm about his waist and forcing him to stumble out the front door. He tried desperately to struggle away from her, but was so weak that he barely made it outside before he collapsed again.

Narcissa looked frantic as she knelt next to him. "Severus… Your house… I'm so sorry." The orange flames reflected in her wide eyes as she continued, "I can't stay – the Dark Lord… I have to go. I'll… I'll try to get a message to Dumbledore, I give you my word. I'm sorry, Severus." And as she stood with a last glance at his burning house, she spun on the spot and was gone.

Once he was finally alone, the panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had to get back inside! He had to get his family!

But his treacherous body refused to cooperate. His hands screaming in agony, Snape crawled the few feet to the side of the house and attempted to pull himself to his feet. But his boneless legs refused to hold him, and he collapsed into the dirt. Refusing to give in, he used his mangled hands to push himself against the wall and to his feet once more. Sagging limply against the old wood, flecks of old paint flaking off onto his cheek and hair, he made his way as fast as he was able toward the door.

Despite the dizziness that threatened to bring him to his knees as he stumbled along, he finally made it. The heat was unimaginable, the smoke thick as it stung his eyes. His swollen fingers clumsily pulled the collar of his robe over his nose and mouth as he pushed forward.

The library was an inferno, the books an absolute feast for the all-consuming fire. But Snape didn't care. He would gladly sacrifice it all as long as it meant his family would get out alive and unhurt. _I'll trade it all for them._

" _DAD!"_

The sudden cry brought him up short. With great effort Snape lifted his head, and his eyes met the wide, terrified gaze of his son. Lily and Jillian stood directly behind him. The acute relief that flooded through him was almost painful in its intensity, and he found himself suddenly dizzy as he cried out in gratitude, unable to suppress his emotion. He stumbled toward them, and Harry rushed into the burning room to help him.

"You're safe! Thank you, God!" Snape muttered, his little strength finally leaving him as he almost collapsed within his son's arms.

"Dad! Come on, we have to get–"

Suddenly there was a hideous, rupturing crack from above, and their gazes snapped upward. Instant understanding caused Snape to use the last of his strength to hurl Harry aside as the ceiling gave way. The last thing he heard as fiery beams crashed down around him were the gut wrenching, horrified screams of his family.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

 _ ****Author's Note: Disgusting, foul little creep alert. Sexual and physical abuse mentioned.**_

The pain was unbearable. Snape screamed in agony as a red hot blade peeled the very skin away from his muscles. He attempted to claw at the raging inferno of nerves throughout his body, but his hands refused to move. His lips stayed silent and immobile, but inside his mind he bellowed at the unending torture.

He was trapped. Imprisoned in the dark confines of his own body.

Time had no meaning. There was only pain. Intense. Fiery. Continuous. As if he was being burned at the stake in the pits of Hell. _I've been damned for all the evils I've committed…_ His body burned for minutes, days, centuries… He could no longer tell.

Suddenly his veins filled with liquid, and the pain eased somewhat.

 _Potions…_ Someone was attempting to bring him back from this hellish purgatory. And from that moment on, although the pain raged on inside the darkness, it was always with different degrees of intensity. Often he begged for death, if only to escape the anguish blazing within. But the potions would always come, and the pain would lessen.

Then something changed. The pain ebbed slightly away, like a flooding tide beginning to inch back from whence it came after a storm. With its departure, he could feel a cool hand within his own. He tried to cling to it, but his traitorous fingers still refused to move.

That hand connected him to something that his mind couldn't quite grasp, but his heart recognized instantly. There was something familiar lurking at the dark edges of his mind... But the harder he thought about it, the faster the answer danced away into the mist. It was like standing on the edge of a foggy sea shore; even though his vision was obscured by a thick haze, he could still clearly hear the waves. He yearned to break through that haze so he could see the sun reflecting like a thousand brilliant diamonds on the water's surface…

Suddenly another potion, and his awareness began to dim. He fought desperately against it, wantingto feel that cool hand even if it meant he had to continue suffering through the fiery pain. But the precious fingers clinging to his own, along with the agony burning away inside him, continued to ebb away until all he knew was nothing, nothing, nothing…

. . . . .

Snape's heart was pounding when he awoke with a strangled gasp. Each beat was like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer shooting red hot agony throughout his body. Panic tore through him, and he couldn't suppress a moan as he tried to rise.

 _Where am I?_ His thoughts tumbled over one another like terrified first years fleeing the damned mountain troll on that long ago Halloween night... _Except Harry._ Harry hadn't run, the stubborn, foolish, brave little... _Harry! Where is my son?!_ Snape's pulse raced as he attempted to rise yet again. But agony flooded him with each tiny movement, and he collapsed back against the pillow. _Bellatrix,_ he panted, refusing to give in as he struggled to sit up and slide his legs off the bed. _The fire. Where is my family?!_

Two wizards in maroon medical robes suddenly rushed into the room. "Professor!" The younger one called with an urgent note in his voice, "Professor Snape, stop!" He grasped Snape by the shoulder and Snape tried to shake him off, but realized he was much weaker than he thought when he only managed to shudder uselessly beneath his grasp.

As the wizard gently pushed him back, Snape realized that he knew the boy. " _Roger?_ " He croaked. "Roger Davies?" The Ravenclaw had graduated Hogwarts this past year, and Snape had never thought to see him again.

The older wizard that had rushed into the room with Roger looked over a few magical monitors floating in the air next to Snape's bed. "Your mental faculties don't seem to be damaged," he muttered as he made slight movements with his wand, and the monitors changed into various colors, beeping and pinging all the while.

"That's a good sign, Pete," Davies said brightly to the older wizard. He then addressed Snape as he continued to urge him back down with a gentle push. "Can you remember what happened before you arrived here, Professor?"

Too exhausted to fight back, Snape closed his eyes and collapsed against the pillows. The simple act of trying to get out of bed had drained what little energy he had. Panting and out of breath he murmured, "Fire…"

Davies' eyes darkened. "Yes. I'm sorry about that, Professor. I've heard that the fire was almost impossible to extinguish – they think it was magical in origin. It was lucky that Dumbledore got there when he did; he was able to get you out in time."

"Do you remember anything else?" Pete asked from Snape's other side.

Still exhausted, Snape's reply was a simple, "I was _Crucioed_..."

Davies nodded. "That's what Harry thought–"

"Harry was here? Was he with a woman and child? _Are they safe?!"_

"Professor," Pete interjected as he ran his fingers over Snape's many injuries. "You've been in a coma for almost two weeks. It's important for you to stay calm. Your body is still weak–" Snape let out a sudden hiss of pain as the man bent the joints of his shaking, spasmodic fingers. "Does that hurt?" Pete asked as he glanced worriedly down at him.

Snape's mouth was pressed into a very thin, McGonagall-like line to keep from crying out. When he gave a single, jerky nod instead of answering, the older man spoke across him to Davies.

"I think we should call in that doctor from Neurology again – the one that specializes in nerve damage caused by dark magic. She was the one that suggested those potions, and came up with the exercises that Lily and Harry were doing on his hands."

Snape supposed that the look the man gave him before he hurried from the room was supposed to be reassuring, but it meant nothing to him. He didn't give a damn about his hands. In that moment he would have gladly removed them himself if it meant garnering information about his family's whereabouts.

"Davies," Snape insisted, his eyes imploring as they bored those of his old student. " _Tell me about my family!_ Where are they? I need to know they are safe!"

Davies' brow furrowed as his eyes flicked back and forth between Snape's own, as if trying to catch one of them in a lie. He looked confused as he studied his old professor. With a hesitant glance at the door that Pete had just left, he slowly murmured, "There's been a lot of people coming and going, Professor. Ron Weasley's family, Professor Lupin, even Professor Dumbledore. He collected the little one – Jillian – the last time he was here. But Lily and Harry… They refused to leave your side, no matter what Dumbledore or anyone else said. The headmaster was worried because they weren't sleeping, they were barely eating…"

A wave of guilt crashed over Snape at Davies' words. He was intimately familiar with the cold, gut-churning fear they must have been feeling, having felt it himself when Harry had run from him that first morning. The terror of not knowing if he would find Harry in time still haunted him, and it was that same terror that drove him now. After all the tragedy and loss that Harry and Lily had suffered in their lives, the knowledge that they were experiencing that exquisitely anguished pain because of _him_ almost ate Snape alive.

"Where are they?" he murmured.

"Sir, I think Pete may be right. You shouldn't–"

"Roger… please…"

The use of the boy's first name drew him up short, and Davies was suddenly looking at him as if he'd grown three extra heads. "Well…" He looked unsure, like the words might bite him while coming out of his mouth. "There was a, ah… _situation_ here at the hospital," he said delicately. "Bellatrix Lestrange must have heard you were here." Snape couldn't help an involuntary jerk when he heard the name. But Davies didn't seem to notice, and he continued, "She attempted to simply walk through the front doors, but Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, and his son Bill were able to stop her before she got further than the second floor." He paused, and another curious look crossed his face. "There seem to be a lot of, um, able fighters around since you arrived. In fact, there was a girl with pink hair that was here before you woke up, said she was an Auror just coming off a double shift. I'm not sure where she went – maybe to get some coffee or something. She looked dead on her feet…"

"My family," Snape prodded, trying not to lose his patience. "Where is my family?"

"After the attack, Dumbledore said it wasn't safe for them to stay. Wouldn't be swayed no matter what they said. Lily agreed to go back to Hogwarts, where her daughter is currently being looked after…"

Relief momentarily washed through him. There was no safer place for Jillian and Lily than at Hogwarts. But he was still anxious. "And Harry? Did he go to Hogwarts, as well?"

"Lily begged the headmaster not to separate them. Said she feared for Harry's safety, that the other family he had was dangerous…"

The relief that had washed through him suddenly froze in his veins. "Whatfamily?"

"Dumbledore said something about blood wards, that it was the safest place for him–"

" _What._ Family?"

"The ones he grew up with… the muggles."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry sat with his back against the wall in the far corner of Dudley's old spare room, running his fingers over his bruised and swollen face. His tender knuckles ached as he brushed them across his lips to wipe away the blood.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he dully contemplated what his punishment was going to be for starting a fight against ' _poor, defenseless'_ Dudley. It didn't seem to matter that the fight had been completely physical, as his wand had been promptly locked away in his old cupboard as soon as he'd arrived. It also didn't seem to matter that the fight had been in Dudley's favor, as the boy had roughly three stone on Harry and had absolutely thrashed him after Harry managed his few quick punches.

He knew the backlash would be brutal. Dudley was probably filling his mother's ear with lies at this very moment. And Uncle Vernon, whenever he finally arrived home… Harry just hoped that the threat of Dumbledore's wrath would be enough to keep his Uncle's brutal fists off him.

 _What exactly did the headmaster think was going to happen when he sent me back here?_ Dumbledore may not have known the extent of things that had happened early on in the summer. But he knew enough that he should have realized sending him back to the Dursley's was a bad idea.

The headmaster had dropped him here three days ago, and Harry still had yet to hear any word on how Snape was… It was that constant, gnawing fear for his dad that was driving him to be incredibly reckless and stupid, like with Dudley.

In the past Harry had always been able to let his cousin's taunting jeers roll off his back, and in fact had barely even bothered listening. But since his arrival, Dudley had gotten a twisted, sick satisfaction explaining in sordid detail just how he imagined Harry spending the summer with his _'freaky professor'_. The words had gotten under Harry's skin in a bad way, remembering the memory he had seen of Snape as a boy. And the fact that Dudley had tried to do those same things to _him_ , but didn't remember after having his memory wiped, was even worse. It was a private, hellish torment, and after three days of listening to his vile cousin, Harry had finally snapped.

Wishing his uncle would hurry up and get home so they could get this stupid punishment over and done with, Harry impatiently picked at the carpet fibers beneath him as he wondered how things had spiraled this far out of control. First the fire and his dad, and now this…

When Dumbledore had come back to Snape's hospital room after fending off Bellatrix alongside Bill and Mr. Weasley, his first words had been that he and Lily weren't safe and could no longer stay at St. Mungo's. Lily had begged to keep Harry by her side, practically gotten on her hands and knees when pleading with the headmaster. But Harry hadn't bothered, too worried about his dad, and resigned to the fact that Dumbledore would not relent where the blood wards were concerned. At least, the headmaster never had in the past when it was _Harry_ begging and pleading not to send him back to his relatives.

Harry was amazed that the Dursleys had even allowed him back in the house. There had been quite the commotion when Dumbledore knocked on their front door, Harry and what little remaining possessions had been saved from the fire in tow. Aunt Petunia's screeching had neighbors sticking their heads out to stare curiously at Number Four. His aunt quickly realized that the front lawn probably wasn't the best place for her tirade, and ushered them disdainfully inside.

They were not even two steps into the entrance hall before her diatribe continued.

"I will not have that _filth_ in my house for another second!" Aunt Petunia screamed, pointing at Harry. "He is unwelcome in our home – I _told_ Snape that we didn't ever want to set eyes on him again, and I meant it!"

"Don't worry, the feeling is completely mutual," Harry muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he gazed listlessly at the floor. He had bigger things to worry about than if his spiteful relatives liked him or not.

"Why you disrespectful little–!" Uncle Vernon lunged in his direction, but a simple flick of Dumbledore's wandless hand halted him mid-stride. Harry could feel the warning radiating from the headmaster from where he stood behind him, and he glanced up at the ceiling as the lights flickered and dimmed of their own accord.

"I know this situation is not ideal," Dumbledore said coldly, "But you gave me your word when you took him as an infant that you would allow him space in your home, no matter how small. I can also see that I was negligent in my duties all those years ago. I assumed that as your sister's child and only living relative, Harry would be loved and cherished as much as your own son." The hair on the back of his Harry's neck prickled, and the soft fuzz along his arms stood on end. He could tell by the terror etched on all three of the Dursley's faces that, like him, they could clearly feel the danger vibrating in the very air around them. The headmaster continued, "I never said it then, but I can see that it needs saying now: if you _ever_ lay a hand on Harry, I will be forced to take measures that you will find mostunpleasant – that I swear."

Uncle Vernon's small, watery eyes flicked in Harry's direction before settling back on Dumbledore, as if he were afraid that the headmaster would attack his family if he wasn't watching him. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I need to hear you say the words." It was as close to a growl as Harry had ever heard from the headmaster.

Vernon glanced sideways at his wife. "He… he can stay."

"Good," Dumbledore murmured, sounding relieved. "Harry, why don't you take your things upstairs and get settled–"

"No!" Aunt Petunia stepped brazenly forward.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed indignantly behind his spectacles as he peered down at her. "Excuse me?"

"H-he can stay. B-but only if those… those _things,_ " she glared first at the wand sticking out of his pocket, then at the trunk he dragged behind him as if they were both covered in fresh troll dung, "Are locked away."

The headmaster's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Does your prejudice run so deep that you would disarm Harry of the only weapon he can use to defend himself? Because make no mistake Petunia – there are many evil men on Voldemort's side, and they may well find him here."

"I refuse to allow _magic_ to be done in this house!" she spat.

Dumbledore stared at her unblinkingly for so long, even Harry began to feel uncomfortable. But is aunt was not backing down.

"Fine," the headmaster said with a heavy sigh. "But I agree only because I will have members of the Order watching this house at all times. And know this: if they even _sense_ that something is not right with Harry, I will be here within a moment's notice. And I will not be happy if their suspicions prove correct."

The lights above them flickered and dimmed once again. But this time the bulb directly above Dumbledore shattered, plunging their side of the hallway in gloom and casting the headmaster's thin face in eerie shadow. Even the sunshine streaming through the sitting room window seemed to dim into non-existence. Harry could see Dumbledore's flinty blue eyes gleaming in the darkness, reflected in the glass of the family portrait hanging directly behind the Dursley's terrified faces. The site gave him chills.

"Do we understand each other?" Dumbledore murmured quietly from the shadows.

"Y-yes!" Petunia squeaked. "Vernon, get the trunk–"

But before the beefy man could so much as move, the trunk began to float down the hall of its own accord. Harry almost snatched his wand out of the air when it slipped from his pocket, but his fingers clasped into a hard fist at his side as he forced down the vulnerable fear attempting to rise up and choke him. The Dursleys jumped with a yelp as the locks on the cupboard door behind them rattled before unlocking themselves and hopping off of where they hung on the small door. The cupboard opened, and with a final _snap_ as the lid of Harry's trunk closed after making room for his wand, it floated into place inside the small, spider-filled room.

As the locks maneuvered themselves back into place with metallic clinking sounds, the sunlight and the one remaining light in the hall reverted back to normal. Dumbledore turned to Harry and motioned him up the stairs saying, "Let's get you settled." Harry nodded morosely as he trudged up the steps, and he couldn't help feeling like a condemned man walking toward the hangman's noose.

When they reached his old bedroom, he wasn't surprised to see it cluttered and jumbled with boxes and more of Dudley's old, broken things. The mattress was stripped bare and leaning upright against the wall, the bed frame taken apart and laying haphazardly on the floor beside it.

"Allow me," Dumbledore said. And with a quick wave of his wand, the headmaster had banished the boxes and junk cluttering the small room, and the bed had magically put itself back together. In a touching gesture, the headmaster had also added the same pillows and duvet cover that Harry had slept on in Spinner's End. A small pile of books suddenly popped into existence, falling one on top of the other in a neat pile on the end of the bed, and Harry recognized them as the books he had been avidly devouring in Snape's sitting room. Although he appreciated what the headmaster was trying to do, he stood there feeling empty and drained as he took it all in.

Grasping him gently by the shoulders, Dumbledore turned Harry to face him and murmured, "I'm truly sorry about this, Harry. I give you my word that the moment he wakes, I will come to fetch you."

"So youthink he will, sir?"

"Will what, my boy?"

"Awaken…?" A single hot, fat tear slipped out of the corner of Harry's eye and rolled slowly down his cheek.

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore murmured as he enfolded Harry in his arms. "If there is anything you must know about Severus Snape, it's that he is a fighter. That man has fought his way through impossible odds that no mortal should have survived. If I know him at all – and I count myself lucky to say that I am one of the very few that do – I know that he is fighting hard to get back to you and Lily and Jillian."

And for the first few days, Harry had clung to his words like a buoy in a raging sea. _Today, he'll wake up. Today, Dumbledore will come get me and I'll be back with my family. Today… Today…_

But three days later, nothing. Not a word.

Harry had known by the first evening that his time at the Dursley's was going south, maybe even on track to getting worse than it ever had been before. His relatives had given him wide berth when he had arrived, too afraid of Dumbledore to carry through on the awful threats they hurled his way. But as the hours passed so too did the memory of Dumbledore's warning. Harry had to admit that he was rather relieved when Uncle Vernon gave him a long list of outdoor chores, as the work kept him outdoors in the sun where he could forget about his horrid relatives for a little while. The chores also kept both his mind and body too exhausted to agonize about anything else, including his dad.

As the sun was setting on that first day, a face he knew well approached him from the shadowy alley across Privet Drive. The bubblegum pink hair gave her away long before she reached Harry.

"Tonks!" he cried, throwing down the large pruning shears in his hands and racing to meet her in the middle of the quiet street.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said with a smile before embracing him in a one armed quick hug. Ruffling his hair when they parted, she said, "I've got the night shift here. I wanted to check on you and see how you were."

"Oh, you know…" Harry said with a shrug, not quite sure what to else to say. "Have you seen Snape? Is he doing alright? Is anyone working on his hands, now that Lily and I–?"

"I haven't been at the hospital since the day before you left, Harry. I'm sorry." She seemed to take pity on him when she saw his crushed expression, so she hurried to say, "But you know, I have another night shift here and then a morning shift with Snape in a few days. Maybe you can write him a letter or something and I could read it to him, let him know you're doing alright–"

" _POTTER!"_

The angry voice barking his name made both of them jump. His uncle was hanging halfway out the door, his mustache quivering and his face purple with rage.

"What in Merlin's–?" Tonks said in surprise.

But Harry cut her off. "I better go. Thanks, Tonks." And he ran toward his uncle, who ushered him quickly inside before slamming the door and rounding on him.

"How _DARE_ you, you little ingrate! Not even here a full day and you're already causing trouble!"

"What did I do?" Harry asked in surprise. He'd barely even been in the house at all since he'd arrived.

"How dare you draw attention to this house by talking to that – that _woman_?!" Uncle Vernon approached like an angry tiger, crowding him until Harry started backing fearfully away. But there was nowhere to escape, and his back quickly hit the wall.

"She was just–"

"I know she's one of your ilk! Pink hair, knee-high boots, outrageous clothing! Of course she's one of _yours!"_ His face was so close to Harry's that he could feel the spittle hitting his cheeks, could smell the booze on his uncle's breath.

"I – I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon! It won't happen again!"

"You're damn well right, it won't! You won't be stepping foot outside this house for the rest of the summer!" His uncle roared. He hadn't laid a hand on him, but Harry could tell that he was only barely restraining himself. "Get out of my sight, _NOW_!"

The truth hit Harry full in the face when he ran into his darkened room and leaned panting against the closed door. Dismayed, he realized that his window not only had had bars on the outside, but now the pane of glass had been completely blacked out with spray paint.

The lock slid into place from the outside of the door, and he listened to his uncle stomp his way back downstairs. _My very own prison cell…_

Harry wasn't allowed out of his room until late the next afternoon, and that had only been to cook dinner for the family before he was tossed a single bread roll and chased back up the stairs. Harry was grateful for the fact that he'd only been picking at his food in the hospital for the past two weeks, as it prepared him for life back at the Dursley's where he was lucky to get scraps, if anything at all for days on end.

And then there was Dudley…

His cousin must have overheard Dumbledore speaking to Harry that first night and overheard Snape's name. He made no secret of the things he imagined Harry and Snape doing in their time together over the summer. The worst part was that what he said were the exact acts he and his gang had attempted to do to Harry. And although Dudley didn't remember the incident, Harry remembered everything – which only increased his agitation when Dudley gleefully muttered about the foul, disgusting acts. And the more disturbed Harry became, the more pleasure Dudley seemed to take in tormenting him.

Until today when Harry snapped.

Harry had been restless all afternoon, racking his brain for a way to get his letter to Tonks. Uncle Vernon had meant what he said – he and Aunt Petunia had not allowed Harry to step a foot outside since that afternoon, and they were always careful to be around when Harry was near any windows or doors.

Unfortunately Dudley caught sight of Harry sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands. "What's the matter, Potter? Dreaming about your boyfriend? What's his name again? Oh yeah – Snape, right?"

"Don't start, Dudley," Harry warned, not bothering to raise his head. But his cousin just didn't know when to stop.

"Ooo, hit a tender spot, have we? Do you miss Snape's big, throbbing–?"

Harry jumped up from where he was sitting, racing downstairs in an attempt to stop Dudley before he really got started. But Harry-baiting had become Dudley's new favorite past time, and his cousin followed him to the kitchen, all the while taunting, "You do, don't you? I always knew you were a little faggot. So who's usually on top, Potter? I bet you just _loved_ when Snape would bend you over and have his–"

"Shut your disgusting mouth Dudley, before I shut it for you!"

"Ooo, the jealous type, are we? Don't like another man saying dirty things about your boyfriend?"

"SHUT THE _FUCK_ UP!"

"You know Potter, your lover Snape may not be around, but I'm here to help ease your loneliness. I bet I could teach you a thing or two about how to please–"

He spun on the spot, and Dudley was knocked flat by Harry's fist. Harry jumped on him before he'd thought better of it, repeatedly punching him across his filthy mouth. He took a sick satisfaction from the blood welling across his cousin's features, and didn't stop until he was kicked aside by Dudley's thick, meaty legs.

"I'm going to kick your ass, you little faggot freak!" Dudley screamed when he stumbled to his feet. But Harry was quicker. Jumping up, he ran to the patio door and flung it open with a _bang_ to try and escape his lumbering cousin.

But he wasn't quick enough. Dudley tackled him from behind, landing on top of him hard enough to knock the wind from Harry's lungs. Gasping low, rattling gulps of air into his lungs, Harry tried desperately to crawl away. But Dudley's shadow appeared above, and his cousin kicked him hard in the stomach to roll him over before wailing on his face over and over again. His vision was beginning to fade on the edges as his head was whipped back and forth by the heavy blows.

A sudden scream rent the air, followed closely by the sound of groceries in a paper bag smashing to the floor.

"Dudley! Oh my God, _Dudley!_ What has he done to you?!" Throwing herself to the ground beside her son, Aunt Petunia gently reached out and cupped Dudley's face, turning it this way and that to examine the damage and completely ignoring Harry.

"Mum! He – he attacked me!"

Harry groaned as he rolled to his side, his face throbbing and bleeding freely, his eyes already swelling dramatically.

"I had to defend myself, Mum!"

"Shhh, of course you did, Duddykins. He's a dangerous, evil little freak! Look at what he's done to my poor baby boy!" she cried, choking back a sob. Then as if a switch had been pulled, the tears stopped. Clutching Dudley to her chest she snarled at Harry, " _You!_ Get up to your room this instant! I knew it was a mistake to allow you back here! Vernon will deal with _you_ when he gets home – NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Harry hastened to do as he was told but found it harder than anticipated since his eyes were almost swollen shut. When he finally made it to his darkened room, he slid to the floor and wavered between stages of intense fear that made it almost impossible to draw breath – _What if dad never wakes up? What if he was tortured to the point that his mind is broken, like Neville's parents? What is Uncle Vernon going to do to me for bloodying his precious son?_ – followed by stretches of staring blankly at a smudge on the wall across from him, no longer caring about anything.

Harry was near the point of utter exhaustion when his uncle's car finally pulled into the driveway and his hefty steps walked through the front door. He knew the moment that Uncle Vernon saw Dudley's face, for there was a roar of "What the hell happened?!" followed moments later by heavy footfalls racing up the stairs. Harry scrabbled to his feet, his adrenaline pumping hard and fast through his veins. But no adrenaline surge could prepare him for his uncle's wrath.

Harry's door almost exploded off its hinges as Uncle Vernon burst into the room.

" _YOU!"_ he roared. And then he charged Harry like a rampaging bull. His large, beefy hands wrapped themselves around Harry's neck a split-second before slamming him up against the wall. "I don't care what that old fool said – you laid your filthy hands on my Dudley! I'll kill you! _I'LL KILL YOU!"_

He punctuated his threats by smashing Harry repeatedly against the wall, using his larger bulk to heft Harry so that his toes scrabbled for purchase below. His eyes bulged as Uncle Vernon's meaty fingers bit into his neck, and his air was cut off with a panicked gurgle. Instincts took over as Harry flailed to free himself, but his uncle's bulk easily outstripped his meager attempts. Just as Harry's body began to go limp and his vision started to dim, Uncle Vernon released him and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath.

His uncle turned and stalked to the door. But before leaving he spun toward Harry and murmured in a low, murderous tone, "I'm going to let Dudley decide what to do with you, you god damn freak. You won't be so cocky then!" And he slammed the door shut with such force that the window rattled hard in its pane and threatened to shatter.

Harry lay where his uncle left him, too weak and afraid to rise. Tears burned hotly down his face as he wrapped his arms around himself, wishing more than anything that he was home, and it was his father's warm, protective embrace that cradled him.


	32. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

 _ ****Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that read and commented on the last few chapters. A running theme in the reviews seems to be how much everyone hates Dumbledore. I just want to clarify that although he is, as Snape likes to call him, "An interfering, doddering old fool," he isn't a bad or vindictive man. The headmaster places too much trust in his assumption that people are ultimately good if given the chance. Unfortunately, his refusal to see the truth of both good AND evil in the world has been costly, both now and in the past.**_

 _ **I listened to, "What if This Storm Ends" by Snow Patrol while writing this chapter. It's a song filled with tension, and I feel like it conveys both Harry and Severus' emotions perfectly. I hope you enjoy!**_

Harry must have collapsed into exhaustion soon after Uncle Vernon's attack, for he woke in the same position crumpled on the floor. His muscles cramped so badly that the simple act of moving brought tears to his eyes. His joints creaked and cracked as he got slowly to his feet, and he swayed in place as the room spun before his rapidly blinking eyes.

Stumbling to his bed, he tried to swallow and realized that his mouth felt as if it were filled with sand. He wished desperately for a glass of water, a wet wash cloth, _anything_ to allow him a sip of liquid and the ability to wipe the crust of dried blood, saliva, and tears from his face… Harry wanted nothing more in that moment than to just feel human again.

 _That's not true,_ he realized. _I'd do anything to know that my dad is going to be alright…_

The thought of his father constricted his throat and made hot tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. But Harry refused to give in to his weakness. Snape was the bravest, strongest man he knew, and he was proud to say that he was his son. Harry was going to honor his father by attempting to be just as strong and brave.

Wiping away his tears, Harry steeled himself before unsteadily rising and stumbling to the door.

 _Unlocked…_ Uncle Vernon must have forgotten to deadbolt the door in his angry state last night. Harry said a little prayer of thanks, and asked whatever God was watching for protection when he realized what he was about to attempt.

Harry cracked his door and peered either way down the hall. The other bedroom doors were open, meaning that it must at least be mid-morning, and that the rest of the house was awake. _Damn…_

Creeping silently out onto the landing, Harry listened hard for any sound that could give him a clue as to where the rest of the Dursleys were in the house. Still and silent as a deer listening for a predator, Harry almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his uncle bark his name. His ears buzzed as he looked around, and it took a few panicked seconds before he calmed enough to realize that the voice had come from downstairs.

"I don't want a homo sleeping in the room next to me, Dad," he heard Dudley say with a strange note of eager excitement tinging his voice. "What if he tried to assault me again, but this time when I was sleeping? You should hear the disgusting things he talks about doing with his _boyfriend_ when you and Mum aren't around." Harry's blood ran ice cold at the lie.

"Has that little faggot touched you, Dudley?!" Uncle Vernon hollered at the implication. "Has he tried to do anything?" Dudley must have nodded his assertion, for his uncle's howl of rage made Harry take a few unsteady steps backward.

"You're not going to tell Mum, are you?" he heard Dudley ask.

"Absolutely not! Your mom wouldn't survive it. I won't ever tell a soul, Dudders. But… You're mum will be coming home soon. So if you want payback for what he's done to you, then it has to be soon."

Uncle Vernon was giving Dudley the chance at revenge.

 _Oh God…_

Frantic, Harry almost decided to race down the stairs in an attempt to reach the front door. But he could already hear them pushing the chairs back from the kitchen table, and knew he would never make it. Instead he spun toward his room, trying to make it back without vomiting all over himself in cold fear.

Harry immediately went to his small dresser, his adrenaline giving him the strength to push it against the other side of the door. He had only just finished pushing it into place when the door opened from the other side, bashing into the soft particle board and making the entire dresser rattle ominously.

"What the–?!" he heard Dudley say. But then his cousin drove his shoulder into it, pushing the dented drawers out of the way without much effort.

The intent was written plainly in his eyes as they raked revoltingly over Harry's trembling form, and Harry again fought the urge to vomit. His cousin's purpose there could not have been clearer.

"You're about to have the time of your life, Potter," Dudley murmured as he closed the door softly behind him.

"And _you're_ about to have the fight of your life," Harry growled, attempting to convince his cousin of a bravery that he definitely did not feel. "Come near me and you'll see exactly what kind of damage my magic can do."

"Your little stick is locked away downstairs, remember?"

"I don't need my wand to defend myself," Harry muttered, squaring up his small frame against his much larger cousin.

Dudley just laughed. The sound chilled Harry to the very marrow of his bones. "Oh, this is going to be fun," he said with a malicious grin.

 _Don't stop fighting,_ Harry told himself. _Whatever happens… don't stop fighting._

The two of them stared at one another for a long, tension-filled moment. Suddenly Dudley exploded into momentum, lunging at Harry. But Harry used his smaller form to dive underneath his cousin's outstretched arms and dash away to freedom, and amazingly he made it.

As he ran through the doorway, Harry made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder to see if Dudley was behind him. This meant he didn't see Uncle Vernon, parked against the wall beside the door in case his son needed his assistance. Sprinting away from his vile cousin, Harry didn't see his uncle raise his own beefy arm to stop his flight. Harry's neck collided full force with the thickset muscles of his uncle's forearm, and he immediately dropped to the floor as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Wheezing horribly, Harry's uncle and cousin both sneered down at him as he lay sprawled at their feet.

"There's no getting away, you little faggot freak," Uncle Vernon said with immense satisfaction coloring his voice. "You're going to pay for what you did to my son. It's time to account for _everything_ you've done to this family!" And with that he grasped Harry by the collar and dragged him to his feet.

The stench of booze was strong on his breath, and in his terror Harry made the mistake of crying out, "But what have I done–?"

"DON'T pretend like you don't know, you God damned menace! Everything in our lives has been perfect with you gone! I received a promotion at work, Dudley is the champion of his boxing team, and Petunia was happy enough to stop taking her meds! But not _three days_ after you turn up, I lose my biggest client, Dudley suffers his first defeat, and Petunia is back talking to that quack doctor! I _KNOW_ you had something to do with things going south for us – you and your unnatural ability!" And with that Uncle Vernon shoved him hard enough back into the room that Harry once again landed sprawled on the floor.

"Please Uncle Vernon," he found himself shouting as his uncle closed the door. "I didn't! _I SWEAR I didn't!_ "

But Uncle Vernon merely scowled down at him before locking eyes with his son. "Teach him a lesson he'll never forget, Dudley," he growled. Then he closed the door with a snap.

His cousin was grinning as he hauled Harry up from the ground and threw him facedown onto the bed. _"No!"_ Harry cried as he tried to scramble away. "No, _please!"_ But his pleading fell on deaf ears, and Dudley easily captured his ankles and dragged him backward until Harry was bent over the side of the mattress.

" _NO!"_ Harry screamed, bucking and writhing as panic overwhelmed him.

But his cousin's bulk was immense, and Harry could do nothing to get away. Using his massive weight, Dudley leaned over and easily trapped Harry's body beneath his own. The proof of Dudley's arousal sat hard against Harry's backside, and as he ground his hips against Harry's smaller frame, Harry became a wild animal as he tried to break free.

"GET OFF ME! Dudley, please don't do this! _PLEASE!_ "

"Keep screaming, you fucking freak," Dudley murmured into his ear, fumbling with his pants before reaching down to try and remove Harry's. "It makes it more exciting for me." In a last panicked attempt to free himself, Harry's bloodcurdling screams filled the room.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

"He sent Harry _WHERE?!"_ Snape bellowed, once again fighting with all his might against his traitorous body as he desperately tried to get vertical. _That God damn old fool! What the HELL was he thinking, knowing what he does about that family?! My son, oh God… Harry, I'm coming for you, I'M COMING!_

"Professor Snape, stop!" Davies cried, flinging himself forward to grasp the professor by the wrists and struggling to push him back. "You're going to injure yourself even further–"

Snape's struggles halted, but the look he levelled at the young man was enough to wither Lucifer himself.

"Get your hands offme Mr. Davies, or I will destroy you," he growled into the sudden silence.

The boy withdrew his hands as if he'd been burned, and the fear in his eyes as he gazed at his old professor was palpable. But he didn't back away.

"I… I can't let you leave, sir," he attempted to say in a forceful voice. But the words waivered, betraying his apprehension.

"You've always been an intelligent young man, Mr. Davies. It would be a shame to kill you. And make no mistake: I _will_ kill you if you do not get out of my way."

Davies backed up a few steps, the terror in his eyes increasing. But still he refused to leave the room. "Professor, I – I won't try and stop you. But… Where…?"

Snape gave Davies an assessing, calculating look. Deciding that he could trust what he saw, Snape quietly murmured, "I'm going to get my son."

Davies' wide eyes tracked him as he slid from the bed, grasping the metal rails for support as his body swayed dangerously. The world tilted as Snape took the first step toward the door, his legs collapsing from underneath him and sending him careening toward the floor. Diving forward, Davies was able to catch him before he did any damage. When Snape eyed him suspiciously, Davies' gaze hardened on his old professor. "I told you I wasn't going to stop you. I meant it."

After the young man helped steady him, Davies took a few backward steps toward the door, as if worried that Snape would collapse again the moment he left. When he didn't, Davies looked Snape in the eyes as his hand fiddled with the door handle. "That woman, the one who was here… the Auror. I'll – I'll find her, Professor. I'll send her to you and Harry."

"Davies!" Snape called before his old student had a chance to rush off. The young man looked at him quizzically, and with genuine sincerity Snape murmured, "Thank you."

As the door swung closed Snape's eyes roamed the room. His breath hitched as his gaze landed on his wand, the one weapon he knew he could use against the muggles if need be, giving him a fighting chance to rescue his son. Stumbling to the side table where it rested, Snape grasped it gently in his stiff, throbbing fingers.

Already out of breath but refusing to stop, Snape staggered to the spacious area before his bed and prepared to apparate. Knowing the feat would be near impossible in his current condition, he took a moment to close his eyes and focus his mind, breathing deeply as he attempted to quell the pain that continued to rage throughout his body.

 _Harry… I'm coming…_

And with that he turned on the spot and disappeared with a _pop!_

The fall through space was absolute agony. The normal pressure of apparition became so constricting that Snape feared his bones would be naught but shards and splinters when he finally landed.

He slammed into the ground outside Number Four so hard that he found himself in a piled heap of weakened muscle and aching bones. For a few excruciating moments, Snape feared that he had crushed every bone and snapped every tendon in his body. Finally the constriction eased, and his lungs dragged a gasping, rattling breath deep into his chest. _Move, God dammit!_ His mind screamed at him. _You need to get to Harry!_ But his body refused to obey. He lay helpless in the morning sun on the front lawn of Number Four, his face pressed against the spiky blades of grass and his body twitching as the taste of blood and dirt flooded his mouth.

Suddenly a terrified, hair-raising scream emanated from deep inside the house, muffled by layers of walls and glass.

"Oh my God…" he croaked, struggling to his feet. " _HARRY!"_

Refusing to allow the pain and dizziness to stop him, he finally made it across the lawn. Falling against the front door, Snape raised his wand to murmur an unlocking spell – but was sickened to see that his wand was no longer in one piece. _It must have broken when I landed,_ he realized in horror. The dark pine had snapped, the shredded core of the dragon heartstring connecting the two halves with a few meager, ragged threads.

At that moment another bloodcurdling scream sounded from the other side of the door.

" _HARRY!"_ Snape screamed.

Wide-eyed, he looked frantically around for something – _anything –_ to use as a weapon. He was so desperate to get to his son that he didn't even notice the magic that began to grow and change inside him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline and something more surged powerfully through his veins, and Snape tossed his broken wand aside as his muscles swelled with an unnatural strength. With a roar he slammed his shoulder against the door, which gave way as if built of no more than matchsticks.

"What in Christ–?!" he heard from the landing above, followed shortly by muffled grunts and thumps from behind one of the bedroom doors. Snape bolted up the stairs, somehow managing to take them four at a time as if he had wings.

" _YOU!"_ The bloated walrus cried, but the hair-raising scream that Snape released as he charged the bigger man had Vernon looking at him with wide, terror-filled eyes. Even with the added strength flowing through Snape, he had a difficult time overcoming the bear of a man who fought with the wild strength of a rampaging bull. Holding him with one hand by the flabby neck, Snape roared as he repeatedly struck the man hard in the face. But Vernon refused to give up, and grabbing his outstretched arm with both hands, ran until he smashed Snape against the wall.

Falling to his knees, Snape had no time to catch his breath before Vernon kicked him hard across the face. The blood poured freely, wet and warm as it streamed from his broken nose and into his mouth. Dark splotches of red misted in a wet spatter against the white walls as Snape coughed and gasped, moaning in pain as he lay on his back.

Panting, his obese opponent came to stand above him, looking down at him in triumph.

"GET OFF ME! Dudley, please don't do this! _PLEASE!_ "

The sound of Harry begging just like Snape used to beg, broke something inside him. He bellowed as his foot shot out to connect with Vernon's knee. With a sickening _crunch_ the huge man collapsed, screaming in agony as his massive bulk carried him crashing down the stairs. He landed with another stomach-churning _crunch_ at the bottom, his skull caved into a deep hollow where it landed head-on against a metal banister.

Weakened and out of breath by his fight with the huge man, Snape stumbled to his feet and staggered down the hallway. Throwing open the door, he felt as if he'd been struck by lightning as he was rooted to the spot by the eerily familiar, disturbing sight before him.

Harry was bent over the mattress with his massive cousin behind him, who was struggling to divest Harry of his denim jeans. His son's face was almost unrecognizable, swollen and covered in dark bruises and dried blood. Dudley was completely exposed as he held both of Harry's hands behind his back, trapped in one of his own.

"I WILL _END_ YOU!"

Snape hadn't realized it was his voice until Dudley glanced behind him with a baffled look on his twisted, ugly face.

"What the _fuck?!"_

" _DAD!"_ Harry choked out.

With a snarl Snape charged, snaking his arm around Dudley's throat from behind. But his fight with the boy's colossal beast of a father left him drained and weak, and he struggled to drag the huge boy away from Harry. Dudley flailed about, one hand tearing at Snape's tight hold against his neck and the other beating wildly about Snape's face.

Forcing Dudley to his feet, Snape squeezed his forearm tighter around the vile attacker's neck until her heard a choking gurgle. But Dudley used his size to his advantage, throwing himself forcefully backward and sending both he and Snape careening heavily into the dresser. Snape refused to release his hold, even as the mammoth teen bashed him repeatedly into the wall.

Finding purchase on one of Snape's inflamed hands, Dudley jerked severely on his fingers to loosen his hold, causing Snape to cry out in pain. But just as he managed to slip out of Snape's grasp, Harry flung himself onto him before he could attack Snape.

"Harry _don't!"_ Snape yelled, but too late. Dudley easily tossed the smaller boy off him, slamming him into the wall as he proceeded to punch him full force in the jaw. Harry's head lolled like a limp rag doll before he crumpled to the ground.

"HARRY! _NO!"_

The monstrous teen turned on him, running at him like an American football player and bashing him once again into the broken dresser. The air left Snape's lungs in a _whoosh,_ and he too crumpled to the floor.

Gasping as he lay writhing on his back, Snape wasn't quick enough to escape Dudley's boot heel as he slammed it repeatedly down into his chest and stomach. Rolling over, Snape attempted to crawl away. _I have to get to Harry… I have to protect my son…_ Seeing his advantage, Dudley aimed a furious kick to Snape's head. Stars exploded in front of Snape's eyes as the room threatened to dim into darkness.

"Harry…" Snape moaned, reaching for him.

" _I'm_ going to end _you,_ asshole!" He heard Dudley scream from what seemed like a great distance.

 _This is it,_ Snape realized. _Please God, just protect my son when he ends it._

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the doorway, a chorus of many voices yelling as the room filled with people. Dudley went still a moment before he fell heavily to the floor with a great _thud_. But the room continued to darken slowly around Snape. He could barely hear the muffled sounds of people calling his name, and could not make out the faces of those surrounding them. His gaze was locked onto Harry's crumpled, beaten body as he slipped into unconsciousness, no longer caring if he lived or died, as long as his son was safe.

"Harry… Har-ry… Har…"


	33. Chapter 32

Albus Dumbledore's wand shook within his trembling fingers as he took in the horrendous scene before him. The horror radiating through body rocked him to his very core, and he suddenly felt every moment of his 116 years of life.

Severus and Harry lay sprawled unconscious on the floor - both loved fiercely enough by Dumbledore to be confused by strangers as his own son and grandson. Both almost unrecognizable beneath their battered and bloody faces. The air left Dumbledore's lungs with a _whoosh_ when he realized that, although these heinous injuries had not been caused with his own two hands, they may as well have been.

 _This is all my fault..._

Severus and Harry were completely oblivious to their rescuers and the chaos of the triage being preformed on them, for which Dumbledore was exceedingly grateful. He wouldn't want either of them awake during this horrific moment, and knew that neither would take well to being nursed or fussed over.

Dumbledore was exceptionality grateful that Harry was unconscious and therefore spared any fear or humiliation their presence would cause. Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, Dumbledore cast a shaky glance around the room. It was obvious what had happened, and a surreptitious look at Harry and his cousin told Dumbledore all he needed to know.

The bigger boy was completely exposed from the waist down, and even though it looked as if Harry had put up quite a fight, it clearly hadn't been enough; Harry was nearly disrobed, as well.

Only moments after receiving the panicked patronus message from Nymphadora, Dumbledore had apparated directly to St. Mungo's. His pounding heart threatening to burst from his chest, he had charged past an agitated Tonks and Roger Davies, both of whom were talking over each other in their frantic attempt to explain to him what had happened. As he stood in Severus' empty hospital room, there was little doubt as to where the man had gone. He'd immediately ordered Tonks to gather a rescue party of members from the Order and meet him at Privet Drive, then turned to Roger and pleaded with the boy not to say a word to anyone. The last thing they needed was a group of Death Eaters meeting them on the muggles' doorstep.

Tonks had immediately reached out to those at the Ministry she knew they could trust: Alastair Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Arthur Weasley. There wasn't time to wait for others.

The rescue party had gotten there just in time. The scene that met Dumbledore's eyes was one that would haunt him to his grave, chilling him to the very marrow of his bones each and every time he remembered...

Severus, beaten to within an inch of his life, reaching for the unconscious body of his bloodied son as Dudley stood poised above him, ready to deliver a killing blow. And Harry... The boy must have experienced absolute terror during the beating in which he received those horrific injuries. The thought of what had almost happened made Dumbledore's gut violently clench and churn, and he felt a cold sweat break out over his aged, papery-thin skin as he swallowed back the urge to retch.

 _Good God in Heaven,_ _ **I did this!**_ _I sent my precious boys directly into this Hell!_

Dumbledore's vision suddenly went black at the edges. His breathing hitched and his body began to tremble and weaken.

 _"_ Albus?" Kingsley's voice was tinged with alarm.

The small room was crowded and noisy as they hurried to heal as much as they could. But at Kingsley's obvious distress they all suddenly went silent, turning to stare at Dumbledore with wide eyes. The headmaster was in shock, it seemed. He hadn't moved, hadn't even dropped his wand to his side since entering the small room.

Dumbledore's chest constricted as his breaths began to come in quickened, panicked gasps _._

 _ **I did this!**_ _If they don't survive, the deaths of my family members will once again be on_ _ **my**_ _head..._

Sudden understanding hit Kingsley like a punch to the gut, and with frantic movements he was able to conjure a pillowed armchair to catch the headmaster only seconds before Dumbledore collapsed.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape came awake slowly, his awareness struggling to the surface as if it were trapped in cold molasses.

"Har…ry…"

He didn't recognize the raspy, croaky voice as his. It took him a moment to realize that someone was there next to him, and that soft, delicate fingers were entwined within his own.

"Severus?" she murmured softly.

"Lily..." He murmured in relief. His eyelids were incredibly heavy, but he forced them open so he could look upon her beautiful face. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked drained and exhausted. But she was still the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"Oh, Severus." Tears thickened and clogged her voice. "Thank God." Grasping his hand with both of her own, she lifted it and placed a gentle, tender kiss against his stiff, swollen fingers. He could feel the wetness of the tears upon her lips.

Snape attempted to rise, but her hand against his chest stalled him. "Don't," she said softly. "I'll get him." And she hurried to the doorway of the unknown room and called, "Harry, come quickly!"

 _Harry…_ Snape thought, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to prevent the sudden tears from falling. _My boy is safe._ _Thank you, God._

And suddenly there he was, followed close behind by little Jilly.

 _My family._

Looking upon their faces – all of them safe and together once more – something deep inside him broke, and he choked back a sob as the tears flowed freely down his face.

"Dad…" His son's voice sounded as if he didn't trust what he was seeing. Harry's features were mottled with old, yellowing bruises, the blood that had covered them now gone to show only a few healing cuts.

 _He's safe… My son is safe._

Harry began to cry as he stumbled to the bed and threw himself onto his father's chest. As Harry buried his face into his shoulder, Snape closed his eyes and wrapped the boy tightly in his arms. Together they lay trembling and tear-stained, finding comfort from their horrific ordeal in the other's embrace.

Snape was unaware how long they stayed like that, but when he opened his eyes both Lily and Jillian had quietly gone. Harry gazed at him with wet, spiky lashes, tears continuing to dampen Snape's shirt where he'd let his cheek fall against it. Snape used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the wetness as he cupped his son's cheek.

"Are you ok?" he softly asked the boy.

"I…" Harry swallowed audibly.

Seeing his son's unease and knowing full well the turmoil of emotions he was going through, Snape wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close once again. "I know," he murmured as his swollen hands traveled in comforting motions through Harry's hair and over his back. "I know."

A long, silent moment passed heavily between them.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Harry asked against his chest.

"Tell you what, son?" Snape asked, continuing to make soothing motions with his swollen hands.

"About what your father did to you."

Snape's movements stilled, and he felt himself stiffen as his gaze suddenly sharpened and a loud buzzing sounded in his ears.

 _What? How did…?_

Harry raised his head, his green eyes piercing as they gazed sadly down at him. And suddenly Harry was gone, replaced a particularly henious memory of his Snape's father brutalizing Snape as a boy.

Harry was showing him the dark, ugly truth that Severus had tried so hard to protect him from.

Horror and sorrow warred within him at the thought that he had unconsciously planted such a vicious memory inside his son's mind. It was a horrible burden to carry, one that he'd tried desperately to conceal from the world. And yet after all that, he'd still failed to hide it from Harry, the one person who'd had enough torment to last three lifetimes.

Confronted with his own demons, Snape suddenly found it difficult to draw breath. He couldn't meet Harry's gaze, instead looking through the window at a sea of green hills when he murmured, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Harry." The words sounded choked as he forced them over the hard lump in his throat.

But his son – _his loving, forgiving, compassionate boy_ – looked down at him in confusion. His brows furrowed together as he murmured, "But… you _were_ there for me."

It didn't seem to matter to Harry that Snape was tainted goods. For some unfathomable reason, he didn't care that his father's weakness had been the cause that sent Harry back to those evil muggle Devils.

 _I wasn't there to protect him. I let him down when he needed me most. But still he doesn't hate me._

Snape couldn't help but feel amazed that this tragic, tender soul who had every right to despise him actually loved him enough to offer his forgiveness and understanding, without even realizing the magnitude of those gifts.

"You saved me, Dad."

He searched his son's face. "No, Harry. I think that from the moment you walked through the castle doors so long ago… _you_ saved _me."_

. . . . .

Sometime later Lily reappeared, and a warm smile spread across her face as her gaze met Snape's over the top of Harry's slumbering form. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she padded quietly over to the side of the bed and ran her fingers through Harry's hair as he slept.

"He was so worried about you," she murmured after a moment, removing Harry's glasses and placing them on the bedside table, then gazing down at the boy as if he were her own. She was more beautiful to Snape in that moment than she ever had been before.

"Harry has barely left your side these past few days. He was more ghost than boy when he came home - his voice was hollow, his eyes were empty... He was..." She searched for the right word, " _Broken_." Snape closed his eyes as his arms tightened around his son and his mind whispered, _I'm so sorry, it's all my fault..._

But Lily's voice stirred Snape from his guilty reverie before it could truly begin to take hold. "This morning... Something changed. It was as if something deep inside recognized that you were coming back to us. He _smiled_ at me. And then heasked if we could have pancakes for breakfast." Her eyes shone tenderly down at Harry before she murmured, "He and Jilly were in the kitchen when you woke up, making your recipe. It was like..." Her gaze searched Snape's own before she finished in a whispered hush, " _Magic_."

In that moment, with his son safe in his arms and the woman he loved at his side, Snape knew a blessed, sacred peace. For the first time in his life, he felt wholly and utterly complete.

. . . . .

Harry slept like the dead for hours, as only those who have known the deepest mental strain but had it suddenly melt away can do. He never moved, and Snape was happy to let him slumber on with his arm resting gently around him. _Nothing can happen to him as long as he is in my arms..._

Lily came to check on them every so often, smiling tenderly whenever her loving gaze met his own content look. It was as the sun was nearing its highest peak in the sky that Snape's eyes finally closed and he slipped into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

His eyes opened slowly sometime later to a darkening space and voices in the next room. Harry must have woken and slipped from the room while Snape was sleeping, for he was nowhere in sight.

Feeling hungrier than he could ever remember, Snape gingerly slid his legs to the edge of the bed, only releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he was steadily on his feet. Although he was still weak, the feeling was nothing like when Snape had woken in St. Mungo's, and he couldn't suppress his relief when he was able to move gingerly around without incident.

The door was slightly ajar, and with a frustrated sigh he admitted that he was having trouble using his hands to lift the robe down from the hook behind it. Feeling extremely foolish, he finally got it down and slipped his arms through, deciding to leave it untied as he walked out to his family.

The room he entered was large and round, he noted curiously. Through the large windows Snape could see a beautiful sunset over the lake with miles of Scottish highlands behind it, and he decided they must be in one of the towers.

Snape rounded the corner and smiled to himself at the view before him. Jillian and Harry were sitting in front of the massive fire place, playing a friendly, giggly game of gobstobes. And there in an overstuffed armchair reading an old, magical textbook on medicinal potions and techniques, was Lily. Behind her were multiple bookshelves lining the walls, the shelves completely full of many different titles.

 _Not like my old library, but it's a start..._

Jillian spied him first. "Severus!" she cried, jumping up and running to him. Harry flashed a bright smile, but was slower to rise. Lily came to help him to his feet before they too came to Severus' side.

"Hi Jilly-Bean," Snape murmured with a warm smile, gently patting the young girl on the back of her head when she threw her arms around his legs. "I've missed you.

"I missed you too, Severus," she said, her bright face shining up at him. "I came to see you every day. Did you hear us reading to you? Madam Pomfrey said it was our responsibility to keep your mind busy. Harry and I took turns."

Snape glanced at his son in question, and as their eyes met, Harry yet again used legitimacy to show him without words. A scene flashed in his minds eye. Harry and Jilly were on the sickbed beside him while he was still unconscious, one on either side as they read aloud from a book propped up before them. As Jilly passed the book to Harry, he caught a glimpse of the title: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. Snape had read it as a young boy before Hogwarts, even before he'd met Lily. He recalled the feeling of wishing he could escape with Alice down, down, down through the rabbit hole… Strangely, the memory didn't pain him or cause any panic like it once had.

"You know, I _do_ think I remember," he murmured with a smile. "Something about a smoky caterpillar and a Mad Hatter."

"Yes!" Jilly cried in excitement. "We were reading all about Alice's adventures in Wonderland!" Her face suddenly sobered. "Were you in Wonderland, Severus? Is that why you couldn't wake up?"

He ran his swollen fingers through her hair as a sad smile crossed his face. Thinking of everything he'd fought against to get his family back, he murmured, "I was fighting the evil Red Queen."

She gasped and her eyes widened. "Did you win?" She whispered.

Love for his children overflowed his battered soul as Snape looked at both of them and whispered back, "I did."

At that moment the floo flared to life, and Poppy Pomfrey walked through the flames. A happy smile lit her lined face as she gazed at the four of them.

"It's wonderful to see you back amongst the living, Severus. You've had us all very worried over the past few weeks." He acknowledged her kindness with a nod, as the floo flared to life again behind her.

Dumbledore unfolded his long frame from the emerald flames, followed closely behind by a woman Snape did not recognize.

"Albus, look how well he's doing!" Poppy called enthusiastically. As she shared a happy smile with Lily, she missed the dark look that passed over Snape's features as he gazed at the older wizard. Dumbledore met his glare with sad, steady eyes. He, too, looked drained and exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin had acquired new lines. It looked so thin as to make his face appear almost skull-like in the dim light of the setting sun.

The headmaster seemed to know that Snape blamed him for Harry's ordeal, and did not shy away from the rage radiating from the younger man. Indeed, he seemed to feel that the anger was well-deserved. To Snape he suddenly looked younger like a lost child, and older like a veteran that had seen too many wars, all at the same time.

"Ouch!" Harry suddenly cried, rubbing at his scar.

"Are you alright, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, and Snape had to fight down an urge to snap at the man not to speak to his son. His eyes rested upon Harry inquiringly.

"M'fine," Harry murmured. "It's... nothing serious," he said meaningfully. Snape took a mental note to speak to Harry later, wanting to know for sure if they were 'nothing major'.

After a moment, Dumbledore turned his heavy blue gaze back to Snape. "I'm glad to see that we have not interrupted your much-needed rest, Severus," He spoke quietly. "But when Dr. Gunderson heard that you were awake, she came from St. Mungo's directly."

With effort, Snape swallowed back the scathing retort on the tip of his tongue and turned his attention to the the doctor. She was an older woman with rectangular spectacles, perhaps Minerva's age, whose confident, smooth movements belied her advancing years.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," the doctor spoke, moving forward and readjusting a heavy black doctor's bag in order to offer a small, but strong hand. Snape's fingers were still incredibly sore, and he appreciated the obvious care she took not to further injure his swollen appendage as she shook his hand. "My name is Dr. Gunderson. I specialize in neurology, and have been working on your case since you were first brought to St. Mungo's. I'm actually well acquainted with your family," she said with a warm smile directed at Harry, Lily, and Jillian. "They were all great assistants in your physical therapy routine while you were with us."

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Gunderson," Lily said with a genuine smile. Noticing that the living room was getting rather crowded, she continued, "Would everyone like to take a seat? I'll be happy to put on a pot of tea."

"Thank you, Lily," Dr. Gunderson said with a smile. "That would be wonderful. May I request that we sit at the kitchen table, Professor Snape? I need to take a look at those hands, and good lighting will help."

"Jilly," Harry muttered, "Why don't we finish our game while they work?" But the boy was unable to hide his nervousness behind the smile he gave the girl. His eyes flicked toward Dr. Gunderson, who gave him a friendly nod.

As they settled across the table from each other, Dr. Gunderson continued to look upon Harry before she quietly murmured, "Roger Davies explained why you left the hospital in such a hurry. I'm relieved to hear that Harry is back with you, where he belongs."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Snape quietly replied, also gazing over at his son.

As Lily came to stand beside them, he was amazed to see her take out her wand and easily produce a delicate, beautiful china pot filled with tea. "Dumbledore taught me," she said with a half smile. But as she poured the first cup, she realized it was lacking the proper amount of steam. Lily made an impatient noise, saying, "I just can't seem to get the temperature right."

"It's the flourish at the end," Snape explained, slipping easily back into teaching mode. "There's a twist that takes some practice. Here, I can show you." Without thinking he reached for her wand, only to have it clatter to the floor due to the pain that shot through his joints when he attempted to grasp the wood between his fingers.

With a dismissive wave and a quick peck on the cheek as she scooped her wand off the floor, Lily tried to put him at ease. "It's alright. We'll work on it."

Snape gazed out the large window beside the small breakfast nook, watching the setting sun and trying to fight the frustration with himself and his inability to complete even the simplest tasks that involved his hands. He could feel Dr. Gunderson's eyes on him, but refused to meet her gaze.

The silence lingered at the table, broken only by the sounds of Jilly and Harry laughing softly as they continued their game.

Finally, Snape spoke into the silence, still scrutinizing the view out the window and refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "My hands did not pain me at all when I arrived at the Dursley's. Strange, because they were agonizing when I awoke in St. Mungo's. Now, however..." His challenging look landed on Dr. Gunserson's unblinking, understanding one. "It hurts to even move them."

"I see," Dr. Gunderson murmured, and her look changed from one of understanding to one of determination. She removed her wand from an inside pocket.

"Harry tells me that you're a potions master, Professor," she said conversationally, as she gently slid her hand beneath one of his own and raised it carefully off the table. Snape merely nodded. "I'm astonished," Dr. Gunderson continued as she performed an intricate bit of wand work. "You're so young – it normally takes a century or so of study to achieve master status."

As she continued her wand work, a warmth spread throughout Snape's hand and certain areas from his wrist to the tips of his fingers began to glow. "Have you worked on anything I might know?"

"Perhaps," Snape quietly replied. "I recently modified the Wolfsbane Potion to prevent–"

"–The victim from losing their awareness during the transformation. They become a warewolf but retain their human faculties and emotions." She turned his hand this way and that, examining his stiff movements and gently touching her wand to different points on Snape's skin. "That was a very skilled bit of potioneering. I'm impressed." She repeated the entire process on Snape's other hand and continued, "It's a shame that the ingredients to that particular potion are so costly. It could help a lot of people."

"I'm currently testing in an attempt to replace ingredients to those that are more widely available for specifically that reason," Snape responded. "Or, I was before all of this..."

"Well," Dr. Gunderson replied, placing his hand gently back on the table and finally meeting his eyes. "The good news is that you will eventually gain back full dexterity of your fingers."

Snape only cocker a brow, and she continued, "You were lucky – your magical core projected enough strength to allow you to get your son back. But I must say, those muggles must have put up quite a fight, because you _severely_ inflamed your injuries; your core magic may even have unintentionally worsened them. I'm not sure how well they will respond to standard magical treatment after being flooded with that amount of core power. I don't want to take any risks – we've taken too many as it is. And gaining your dexterity and movement back is vital in your line of work. So I'm afraid we'll have to do this the old fashioned, muggle way.

"Madam Pomfrey," she said, glancing at the matron. "I will give you the movements and exercises that I wish the Professor to complete three times a week. I still want to see him once a month to check his progress. And Lily my dear," she said, turning to face her. Lily had a resolute look on her face as the doctor continued, "You will be a great asset in his recovery, with your experience working in muggle hospitals. But I must warn you, Professor," she intoned, her eyes glancing severely at Snape over the rims of her spectacles, her expression deadly serious. "It may take six months, or even up to a year for your fingers to regain their former responsiveness. In the meantime, I must insist that you refrain from any delicate work that you would normally do with your hands – that includes brewing potions and prepping ingredients, I'm afraid."

There was a long pause as all in attendance absorbed her words. Harry broke the silence from across the living room, his game with Jillian suddenly forgotten.

"But…" He uttered, sounding dumbfounded, "He _teaches_ Potions! And he – he brews healing balms and treatments for the hospital wing!" His son jumped from the floor and rushed to his father's side, the guilt clear in his eyes. "Dad, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault–"

"Harry. _Stop._ " Snape cut him off in the firmest tone he could muster, refusing to allow his son to take the burden of guilt upon himself. "I don't care about my hands. I would have gladly hacked them off myself to get to you." When his son still looked as if he wanted to argue the point, Snape attempted a comforting tone and said, "It's alright. We'll figure something out."

. . . . .

Shortly after giving her diagnosis, Dr. Gunderson was escorted by Madam Pomfrey to the mediwitch's office to discuss treatments and therapies for Snape's hands. Dumbledore had been close on their heels with some feeble excuse about vital work that needed to be completed. Snape had the feeling that the headmaster simply wasn't ready to deal with his livid potion master.

Snape say at the table, continuing to stare out the window as he contemplated his future. No potions for the next few months... Where exactly did that leave him? And not only that, but his stomach clenched at he thought about the Unbreakable Vow he had made with Narcissa Malfoy... He had yet to speak to Dumbledore about that, and after everything that had happened with Harry, he was almost angry enough to follow through with with the terms he had agreed to. Sighing deeply, Snape continued to brood on his life, which had somehow become even more complicated than it was before.

Lily suddenly interrupted Snape's dark musings. Although she affected an air of ignorance, he had a feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing when she placed her arms around his shoulders from behind and asked, "Would you like a tour of our new quarters?"

It was a large space, obviously created for someone with children. Snape supposed that the thought of someone bringing their extended family to Hogwarts wasn't _too_ out of the ordinary - he remembered a teacher from his time here at Hogwarts that had a wife and three young children that used to accompany him to the castle during the school year. He never gave it much thought where they stayed, but now he realized it very well could have been here.

The quarters were spacious with round walls and high, vaulted ceilings. There was a large kitchen connected to the sitting room, with large windows that offered amazing vistas from all sides. Down a small hallway was Jillian's room, with a large, ornately carved canopy bed and plenty of space to play. The room after that was a modest guest room with yet another canopy bed, which Harry had been using since his arrival. Snape's sickroom was next to Harry's. There was a small bathroom at the end of the hall, and across the hall from the other bedrooms was the master suite.

"I have to admit, this is my favorite room of them all," Lily said, her eyes shining.

Snape could immediately understand why. The room was large with its own wooden canopy bed on a raised dais, as well as a writing desk and a small seating area overlooking the mountains and lake. Snape didn't get to admire the view for long however, as Lily excitedly grasped his hand and pointed upwards. It was only then that Snape realized that, like the Great Hall, it too had an enchanted ceiling.

"Dumbledore said he thought Jilly and I would appreciate the space in these quarters," Lily murmured, still staring up at the puffy clouds through the enchanted ceiling. "But really I think he remembered how much I loved the ceiling in the Great Hall." Her beautiful green eyes flicked to Snape's subdued black ones. "I know that technically you and Harry have your own places to stay during the school year. And I know that you have a role that you have to play around everyone else. But maybe..." She blushed prettily. "Maybe we can be a proper family on weekends. And you can come stay whenever you'd like, like at night when-"

Snape leaned over and kissed her full, sweet lips, cutting her off. "Is that all I am to you?" He asked quietly after a moment as he pulled away. His voice was serious but his eyes were filled with mischief. "A quick romp in the night?"

Lily smiled coyly, her eyes dancing. "I can find a replacement if you'd like. There are plenty of other-"

Snape kissed her again.


	34. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

Snape brooded for days, taking meals alongside his family and refusing to leave Lily's quarters. He wanted to avoid displaying the weakness in his hands to his nosy, overly-intrusive peers. Or at least, that's what he tried to tell himself.

But as usual, Lily was able to see through his rationalizations with a single discerning look. This afternoon when he requested - yet again - to eat with the family in the tower, Snape noticed that although she didn't look at him, he saw Lily's body tense for the space of a heartbeat. It was not worth the migraine, he explained, that would surely be evoked by having to suffer through the attention of their dunderhead coworkers. _Or worse_ , he thought to himself, _have to see the pity in their eyes as I struggle to feed myself like an infant._

Turning to face him, Lily cocked her head and shrewdly narrowed her eyes for a long moment. "You know, giving Dumbledore the silent treatment is just as pointless as asking Hagrid to swap pants with Professor Flitwick."

Snape pressed his lips together in a thin line, evoking a very McGonagall-esque expression while attempting not to smile. He had a very vivid mental picture of Hagrid's big toe dressed in Flitwick's trousers, while the minuscule professor tried to escape a sea of fabric, dragging it behind him like the train of an extremely hairy, ugly wedding gown.

Snape couldn't be sure in that moment if he wanted to throttle Lily for knowing him so well when he treasured his privacy, or kiss her senseless for understanding his complicated moods.

"Sev, I'm behind you no matter what you do," she said quietly. "But it's time for you to decide if Dumbledore's faults where Harry is concerned are too disastrous to forgive."

A few minutes later, Snape had been unceremoniously kicked from the tower and was on his way to see the headmaster. He was constantly reminded of what he'd almost lost every time he looked upon his son, and as such still didn't trust his ability to keep calm around the man.

So in an attempt to calm his simmering rage, Snape made an abrupt turn toward his office. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, as up to this point he still wasn't even sure what he'd be doing when term started. _It's not as if I'll be teaching Potions..._ He thought, somewhat bitterly.

Snape briefly considered the position that was open yet again this year since the students had driven The Toad to an early retirement. _Umbridge's undoing had_ _mainly been thanks to the Weasley twins,_ he thought sullenly. _I'll have to remember to thank them._

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the one teaching position that students believed Snape wanted badly enough to kill for. He couldn't help the satisfied smirk that crossed his features when he thought of all the scandalous whispers he'd heard throughout the years. Snape himself had been the one to start that particular rumor all that time ago, when he had first switched allegiances and tuned spy for Dumbledore. He'd needed a believable cover story that the Dark Lord would accept without question - and the idea that Dumbledore would be cautious enough to keep Snape away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was surely that.

In all honesty, Snape wanted nothing to do with teaching DADA. Although he excelled in the subject, it no longer held the appeal it once had when he was a bullied teenager longing for revenge. Not only that, but he was well aware that the Dark Lord would be much more interested in his day-to-day activities here at Hogwarts if he began teaching the subject, and would have many ideas about how to gain sway over the young, impressionable minds here. The last thing he needed was the Dark Lord constantly looking over his shoulder in the one place he felt somewhat in control of his own life.

Potions had always been the perfect solution - a safe haven for Snape, and a foolproof way to offer _'inside information'_ on Dumbledore while at the same time keeping the Dark Lord apathetic enough to allow him freedom of movement at the school.

But now he may not have a choice. If he wanted to stay at Hogwarts he may be forced to teach DADA, as his hands _were_ getting better thanks to his physical therapy sessions. He now could lightly grasp a wand, although the intricate finger and wrist movements needed to cast spells were still extremely difficult, and thus he usually ended up dropping it.

Snape grimaced as he admitted that he did indeed need to meet with Dumbledore, as it would be crucial to discuss how they would explain this new turn of events in such a way so as not to blow his cover.

But Snape wasn't looking forward to sitting across from the man that was responsible for his son's near-miss with the Devil. Stalling in an attempt to give himself more time to prepare for that dreaded moment, he finally arrived outside his office door. Placing his contorted hand upon the rough wood, Snape murmured the same string of Latin incantations that had unlocked the wards at Spinner's End. The planks glowed beneath his swollen palm and the door opened with a soft _snick_.

He shouldered his way into the room, stopping just inside the doorway to take stock of the small office and all its supplies. Snape's sharp gaze traversed the rows of glass jars and bottles, quickly alighting on something that didn't belong: his wand, laying perfect and pristine on his desk as if he had only ever imagined the dark wood snapping in half.

 _What…?_

Relief and confusion warred within his brain. He'd felt naked these past few days without his wand, on edge as if he was going to be attacked at any moment, and grief-stricken as if he'd lost a close friend.

He ran his fingertips almost lovingly over the familiarly worn bumps and grooves of the thin wooden stick, and only noticed the other item laying beneath it when his caress made the paper crunch beneath his swollen hand. It was a folded newspaper – grayish and dingy like old worn socks – doubled back to a particular page and obviously placed there for him to find. Curiously, none of the pictures plastered across the page moved.

His eyes scanned the page in his hand for a long moment. Suddenly Snape's heart stopped in his chest, and his gaze narrowed dangerously upon a picture of the filthy abuser muggles that he'd hoped he'd never have to see again. _**'LOCAL TEEN KILLS FATHER IN DRUG-FUELED RAGE'**_ , the title screamed up at him from above the picture.

Snape was riveted by some twisted sense of morbid curiosity. His mind revolted at the sight of them, but he wouldn't have been able to look away had the Dark Lord himself barged in and started firing Unforgivables his way:

 _Dudley Dursley, 16, a local teenager from Little Whinging, Surrey, murdered his father Vernon Dursley Tuesday afternoon in what officials are saying was a drug-induced fit of rage._

 _"It looks as if the two of them entered into a physical altercation, and Mr. Dursley suffered a severe head trauma, which ultimately killed him," an anonymous source from the Surrey police department says. "We've come to the conclusion that drugs were involved, after young Mr. Dursley tested positive for an unknown substance and an anonymous community tip led us to the young man's drug flat. The flat was raided, and the rest of his gang have been arrested for Class A drug trafficking, as well as possession with intent to distribute."_

 _Members of the gang were also implicated in a string of rapes that have recently taken place in the area on both men and women young and old. "These people were animals," continued our source. "It wasn't about sexual gratification – it was a bid to instill terror throughout the community so there would be no resistance over their impending drug business."_

 _When asked what kind of drugs were found, all our anonymous source would say is, "Whatever that stuff was, I'm glad we were able to get it off the streets. [The deceased] had over eleven stone on his son, and the extent of his injuries looked as if he'd jumped in front of a moving bus. I wouldn't want to answer a call with people high on drugs that allowed them to do_ **that** _to our local law enforcement."_

 _The body was found by Mrs. Petunia Dursley, wife of the deceased and mother of the perpetrator, when she arrived home later that afternoon. Neighbors reported they could hear her screams as far as three streets over._

 _Mrs. Dursley was taken to the local hospital, but was later transferred to West Park Mental Hospital in Epsom, Surrey when police arrived and she was unable to give an accurate account of what had happened. "The woman must have snapped," our source tells us. "Husband dead, son in the process of overdosing on his drugs upstairs... She was babbling about all kind of things - black magic, teachers from some pretend school who were out to get the family. She even went as far as blaming her husband's death on a fictitious family member that we could find no trace of. None of the neighbors we spoke to ever saw anyone other than the three Dursleys living there."_

 _Mrs. Arabella Figg, a neighbor living across the street from the Dursleys, tells us that she had suspected that teenager Dudley was up to no good for some time. "The boy was a menace within the neighborhood," she says. "He was coming and going at all hours of the night, and could be downright scary if you crossed him. I'm not surprised something like this happened... Not surprised at all."_

 _When our source was asked if the community had anything to fear, we were told, "The Surrey PD doesn't think so. This looks like an isolated incident, as both the drugs and the gang were taken off the streets before they could do any more harm. Nevertheless, we are still searching for any victims they may have attacked before the police knew of their existence within our quiet community. We ask anyone who has any information to please come forward and help us put these young men in prison where they belong."_

 _Dudley Dursley and the other members of the gang are scheduled to be arraigned on Thursday on drug charges and multiple counts of rape._

Snape stared down at the page, the last word of the article screaming up at him in its horrifying simplicity. _Rape. Harry was almost raped._ That word didn't even begin to explain the exquisite, lifelong anguish that it brought upon its victims. Harry's petrified pleas echoed through his brain, mingling with horrifying memories from Snape's own childhood, of whimpers and screams and nights filled with terror.

Suddenly it was no longer the memory of a young Snape and his evil father that flashed through his mind. Instead those disturbing images had morphed into Harry and his demented, horrific cousin.

Snape's vision filled and twisted into an ugly shade of red. The blood pounded through his ears as a grotesque rage overtook his every nerve ending and sent him into a spiraling fury. His rage focused on one single point, and it echoed painfully, repeatedly throughout his mind.

Dumbledore. This was his fault.

 _How_ _ **DARE**_ _he send my boy directly into the jaws of Hell?!_

Snape was moving before he'd even thought about doing so. It began as a brisk walk, but by the time he reached the dungeon steps, he was practically running in his haste to confront the old fool. His rage propelled him faster through the stone hallways and up the staircases until he was standing before the ugly gargoyle sentinel. Heavy breaths tore through his lungs, and Snape wasn't sure if it was because of his frantic pace throughout the castle or his burning rage to confront the headmaster.

Realizing that he didn't know the password, Snape forced his body to calm as he closed his eyes and took deep breaths through his nose. He would need his wits about him if he didn't want to be talked into one of Dumbledore's traps.

Guilt suddenly rose within him, cutting quietly through his anger like an ancient water serpent through a Scottish loch. It tried to convince him that his rage was unwarranted. _The headmaster has done so much for Harry. And for me. The decisions he makes, no matter how faulty, are always well-intentioned. It's all for the greater g–_

"NO!" Snape hissed out loud as his eyes flew open. He fiercely crushed the urge to see things from the old fool's point of view. "The man almost got Harry killed! I will _not_ feel guilty, dam–!"

But he was stopped dead in his tracks, as the gargoyle had suddenly leapt to life when he uttered the word, _'guilty'_.

The water serpent in Snape's mind attempted once again to get his attention and whisper how odd that fact was. _In all sixteen years that I have taught here, Dumbledore has never had anything other than sweets as his passwords. Why would 'guilty' be…?_ But Snape cruelly wrenched his thoughts away and paid the niggling worry no heed.

Rushing up the spiraling staircase, he burst through the door at the top without bothering to knock. The headmaster sat hunched in his throne-like chair behind his desk, looking worn and deeply exhausted, and seeming older than Snape could ever remember seeing him. His lined face was grave, his brows drawn into a troubled expression, and he never took his gaze from the window and the sweeping views below. He was quiet for long moments, and as Snape stood still and silent on the threshold, he began to wonder if Dumbledore even realized he was there.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Dumbledore suddenly muttered into the silence.

He didn't even have the decency to look Snape in the eye, and instead continued to gaze morosely out the window. The sight of his self-pity when _Harry_ was the one that had been most affected was almost too much for Snape to handle.

"Sorry for _what_ exactly, Headmaster?" He replied in an icy, dangerous tone. He wanted nothing more than to slam the door, and only just managed to close it softly behind him. "Sorry about the fact that my house burned down, and all my worldly possessions along with it?" He stalked slowly, menacingly forward. "Sorry that Bellarix crippled my hands badly enough that I will not be able to teach for a full school year?" Reaching the desk, he leaned painfully forward onto his ruined fingers, not caring about the ominious cracks he heard as he loomed threateningly over the old man. "Or are you sorry for sending my son back into the Devil's lair with those sick, twisted _muggles_?!"

Dumbledore finally deigned to look up at him, although the movement was sluggish and drawn out. As their gazes connected, the headmaster suddenly seemed extremely feeble and frail, and for some reason Snape wanted nothing more than to attack him.

"You're absolutely right, Severus," Dumbledore replied meekly, staring up at Snape like a pathetically useless pet, long past its prime and needing nothing more than to be put down. "Harry was not safe there - I should have seen it. Instead, I sent him to a prison where he was beaten, bloodied, and abused. There is no excuse for what I did to him. I may as well have inflicted his injuries myself."

Snape's entire body began to tremble as his vision tinged with red. "Don't you _dare_ sit there and pretend that his suffering means anything to you!" He snarled, and Dumbledore flinched as if Snape had struck him. " _You_ , who always encourage Harry to dash headlong into danger, even if it means heinous injury or death. As long as he dies in the name of ' _the greater good_ ', then Harry is nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to you! _SO DON'T SIT THERE AND INSULT ME BY PRETENDING OTHERWISE!"_

Snape couldn't stand to be in the man's presence a moment longer. Storming to the mantle place, he almost knocked the container of floo powder off its stand as he tried multiple times unsuccessfully to scoop the green, glittery powder into his stiff palm.

Finally able to cup a small bit between his fingers, he yelled out, "Lily Prewett's quarters!" And with a glare at the headmaster that burned worse than the scorching flames of Hell, he was gone.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Dumbledore was unable to sit there a second longer, and he upended his chair with a clatter in his haste to flee the confines of the room that seemed to be shrinking by the moment. Hurrying up the stairs to the castle ramparts above his quarters, the headmaster stood as still as the stone beneath his feet while a sudden, punishing summer storm began to tear at his robes and hair.

 _It's as if the wind is trying to shove me over the edge,_ he thought _. Perhaps I should let it..._

Dumbledore was usually not prone to fits of self-loathing, always knowing exactly why and how he was needed within the universe's master plan. But after these past few days, and especially after this, he couldn't help thinking that Severus might be right in his harsh opinion of his motives; perhaps he _had_ allowed his constant battle for 'the greater good' to cloud his judgment.

The thing Dumbledore yearned for most was to rid the world of the greatest evil it had ever seen, and in turn make it a safer place for wizards and muggles alike. But was he _really_ willing to sacrifice Harry to do so, as Severus claimed?

The short answer was yes, he was. Or, he had been. Before...

 _Before I fell in love with Harry, as if the boy were my own kin_.

Harry and Severus were now his family, unintentionally becoming the son and grandson Dumbledore had never been blessed to have.

The sudden storm caused a gathering darkness to overtake and invade the sky above him, blocking out the sun and making it seem far later than it actually was. The hair on Dumbledore's arms and the back of his neck stood on end as the air tingled with electricity. Lightning suddenly splintered across the sky, dangerously close to the tower. But Dumbledore refused to move, almost hoping it would strike the stones beneath his feet and take the decision he was contemplating out of his hands. _The coward's way out._

He stepped slowly up onto the parapets. His toes curled over the edge of the stone blocks as he looked calmly down into the shadow of the castle walls. There was nothing below him now but the punishing wind and the abyss of hundreds of feet of empty air. As Dumbledore stood contemplating plummeting to his death far below, his thoughts drifted once again to Severus and Harry, the family he had never intended to create.

 _Family..._

He'd had a family once. A loving father and dedicated mother. A brother that looked up to him. And a sister...

 _No._ It was too painful to think about his poor, sweet sister.

 _I sacrificed them all for the greater good_. Where had it gotten him? His brother couldn't even stomach the sight of him. Had it been worth it? Had the terrible price he'd been forced to pay helped to make the world a better place? Had the sacrifice of those he loved even changed a thing?

 _A step. Just one step,_ he thought, his toes sticking out into space as he gazed down from the dizzying height. _Then they can tell me if I'm a good man... If my actions have made a difference and the greater good has been achieved._ A single tear trickled beneath his half-moon spectacles as he looked at the ground far below. It traveled down his long, crooked nose before it was whipped by the fierce wind into empty space.

 _Father… Mother… Aberforth…_ He choked out a sob at the last. _Ariana… Please forgive me. I was selfish and aloof, but all I ever wanted was to help the world._

Just one step.

Then he could talk to them and it would all start to make sense again.

The rocks beneath his feet began to crumble and fall away as his chest heaved with despair. A heavy gust of wind caught him from behind, billowing his robes like a sail and pushing him ever further over the edge. He could almost feel hands at his back, forcing him toward the precipice. His pockets suddenly felt heavy, as if they were filled with stones.

 _Pockets feel heavy with stones..._

 _Stone..._ _That's it!_

Why hadn't he thought of it before?! The stone in his pocket! The ring that he had taken to carrying since finding it in that decrepit old cottage all those days ago. Severus had still been unconscious and Harry had been safe behind the blood wards, or so he thought... In that time of quiet desperation as he worried for his family, Dumbledore had nothing but his mind and his obsession to keep him company, dwelling every minute of every day on how to defeat Tom Riddle. _Kill him. Have to kill him. Have to find the Horcruxes._

And then, miraculously, he'd found one. It had been buried under the crumbling floorboards of that old house, and after pulling it from its resting place inside the small box, Dumbledore had placed the ring in the palm of his long-fingered hand. He'd stared at it until realizing that the sun had disappeared below the horizon and there was no more light to see it by. After apparating home to Hogwarts, he'd sworn to destroy the ring the very next morning. But before the sun had risen he'd once again found himself turning the stone over and over in the palm of his hand, watching it twinkle darkly as he'd obsessed upon how to bring down the most evil wizard that had ever lived. Looking up, he realized that darkness had descended yet again, and once more swore that tomorrow, he would destroy the cursed ring.

Tomorrow…

Every day was the same. Dumbledore would wake before dawn and stare at the ring laying docile and unassuming, nestled within his palm. And he could never bring himself to destroy it.

But suddenly Dumbledore knew. _This_ was why he couldn't bring himself to destroy the ring. This moment - _now_ \- so that he could talk to his family and beg for clarity and forgiveness.

As lightning streaked across the sky above and the wind continued to whip around him, Dumbledore pulled the ring from his pocket. It shone with an unearthly, eerie glow that promised redemption from those on the other side. All he had to do was put it on...

He slipped the ring onto his finger.


	35. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

Harry was supposed to be in bed, but instead sat hidden beneath his invisibility cloak listening to his father. A lightning bolt from the sudden summer storm lit the darkened room, throwing Snape's enraged features into harsh profile. A chill went up Harry's spine, and the longer he sat listening to his father's angry murmurs, the more confused and conflicted he became.

"The man is a danger," Snape hissed, attempting to keep his voice down. "His first priority is to everyone _but_ Harry! As long as it serves the greater good, then Dumbledore will gladly sacrifice my son's safety, or even his life!"

 _No, that… that isn't true! It CAN'T be!_ Harry silently denied. Dumbledore would never use him like that. He _cared_ about Harry! Why was his father saying such things?

"But... how can you even think that?" Lily asked in an anxious tone, sounding unsure what to believe. "After everything you've told me he's done for you... He _loves_ you. Both of you!"

"I don't think the man even knows what love is anymore," Snape replied coldly. "Bringing down the Dark Lord has been his sole purpose for over half his life. I've trusted him without question for sixteen years. But how can I continue after everything he's done to Harry?"

"What are you talking about?" Lily asked. "What has he done?"

Snape was quiet and distracted, as if he hadn't heard her. A sudden, loud bang made Harry jump, and he realized that Snape had brought one of his injured hands down hard upon the tabletop. His insides lurched at the wave of guilt that sprang up inside him. It didn't matter what Snape said… His father's painful, mangled hands were all his fault. He expected to see Snape wince as be abused the contorted, painful appendage, but his father didn't even seem to feel it.

"How can I not have seen it?!" He snarled. "It's never been about keeping Harry _safe!_ It's been about keeping him alive to fulfill Dumbledore's God damn agenda!"

"Severus, stop!" Lily replied, her worried voice drowned out by another crash of thunder. "Don't do this! Harry is safe and you're finally recovering. You've both made it out of an impossible ordeal, and... We're _here_. Watching over Harry – together." Lily reached up, cupping his face softly between her palms, pleading. "Please Severus... I love him, too. He is my son as much as yours. Neither of us is going to allow anything to happen to him."

Snape's anger only seemed to increase at her words, and for a long, tense moment Harry thought he would knock her hands away. But then his shoulders drooped, as if it all had suddenly become too much in his exhausted state.

He placed an injured hand over one of her own. "I would do anything to protect my family," he said quietly, but Harry almost missed it as the gale-force winds beat themselves against the outside of the castle walls.

"I know," Lily murmured. "But tonight your family is safe. You've done enough."

Sighing, his father closed his eyes and gently touched his forehead to her own.

They sat like that for long moments, both taking comfort in the other's presence. Finally, their gazes met and held, and without another word they made their way past Harry down the hallway toward Lily's bedroom. Harry sat as still as stone, hardly daring to breathe as they walked within inches of where he sat. But as their bedroom door clicked shut, he couldn't bring himself to rise. So instead he sat with his back against the wall, the churning nerves and roiling guilt heaving within his stomach. Swallowing hard, Harry felt like he was going to be sick as he reflected upon the conversation he had overheard.

What was his father talking about when he spoke of, 'Dumbledore's agenda'? Weren't _all_ of their agendas the same? Was it not their ultimate goal to take out Voldemort once and for all? Harry had no choice in the matter – because of the prophecy he now knew that if he wanted to live, he would be forced to kill Voldemort. And he was convinced that somehow, Dumbledore would help him do that.

But why did Snape think the headmaster was dangerous? The old wizard was singularly focused on his goal of defeating evil, Harry would admit. But wasn't that the reason they all looked to Dumbledore to lead them in this fight? The headmaster was brilliantly clever, craftier than anyone Harry had ever known... But wasn't that yet another reason to trust him in this battle of good and evil?

 _If Dumbledore is so clever_ , a traitorous corner of Harry's mind whispered, _would I even recognize if I was being manipulated?_ He chewed nervously at the inside of his lip. The churning in his gut intensified to match the ferocious storm raging just outside.

 _Why am I thinking like this?_ Harry suddenly thought, desperately trying to convince himself that he was being paranoid. _After everything Dumbledore has done for me, how can I even be considering that he isn't on our side... On_ my _side?_

He sat there for long minutes. The doubt was like a parasite eating away at his brain, leaving little holes that were quickly filling with suspicion. He made a split-second decision, and the invisibility cloak pooled around his feet as he jumped up and dashed to the large fireplace. Throwing a handful of glittering floo powder into the cold, dark stones, the green flames shot to life. He quietly but firmly announced where he wanted to go, tightly closing his eyes as the spinning began.

A few seconds later he was spit ungraciously from the floo on the other side. Although he stumbled, Harry somehow managed to keep from falling. The room before him was quiet and dim, the small clicks and whirs of the tiny, delicate instruments throughout the room drowned out by the fierce wind and pounding rain.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called.

Lightning forked menacingly beside the tower, momentarily casting harsh shadows around the room. The crack of thunder that followed was so loud that it rattled the ancient window panes. Apprehension rose forcefully inside Harry, almost making him ill as his gaze fell upon Dumbledore's overturned chair behind his desk. He tried again, desperate now and past caring if he woke the old wizard.

"Professor? I need to speak with you! It's urgent!"

Suddenly a door crashed open in the headmaster's private quarters above. The wind howled through the open doorway with the force of a hurricane, blowing scrolls and parchments off the headmaster's desk to swirl through the air around Harry like a cyclone of dry leaves in autumn. He started violently as the sound of something big crashed against the wall above him – something that grunted and sounded suspiciously like a person.

"Professor?" Harry called nervously.

Looking around, he spied a flight of stairs tucked into a corner next to a tall, thin window and took them two at a time. Reaching the top, Harry's horrified gaze watched as the headmaster crumpled slowly to the floor, his weakening body braced against the wall for support. Landing hard on his knees, his body began to flail and thrash until he was completely prone against the rough stone floor. The old wizard cried out, and Harry looked wildly around, believing he was in the midst of fighting a group of Death Eaters – or possibly even Voldemort himself.

But when it soon became obvious that the headmaster was alone, Harry dashed toward the man and dropped to his knees beside him. Dumbledore looked to be having a seizure, and Harry was at a complete loss as to how to help him.

After long moments that seemed like hours the thrashing finally stopped, and Harry's frantic breathing was harsh and loud in the sudden quiet. His eyes were wide with shock as the headmaster's body lay pale and still as death below him.

"No..." Harry rasped. _"_ _NO!_ _"_ His mind refused to accept what his eyes were telling him, and he desperately began to shake the old man. "Professor! Professor Dumbledore, wake up!" Sliding his arm beneath the taller wizard's shoulders, Harry cradled the headmaster's upper body so that he was no longer laying on the cold, rough stones. Harry was trembling so violently that he almost dropped the older man. "Sir–" he cried. "Oh my God, what do I–? Professor Dumbledore, wake up!" Raising his wand and pointing it directly at the professor's heart, Harry did the only thing he could think of: " _Rennerverate!"_

A red light shot from the end of Harry's wand and suddenly the older man gasped, crying out in agony as he clutched his hand to his chest. Harry watched in horror as the skin over the ends of Dumbledore's fingers began to wither and blacken before his eyes, like someone was forcing the old man to hold his hand within the searing coals of a raging fire. As Harry watched, the headmaster's appendage withered from a healthy hand into the decayed, shriveled skin of an ancient mummy, and Harry had to swallow back his terror.

Dumbledore rolled to the side with a groan, folding his body protectively around the blackening appendage as his trembling body curled into the fetal position. Harry was petrified. He had never seen the headmaster so weakened… So vulnerable. Witnessing it now felt morbid and unnatural.

"Wha-what do I do, sir?" He cried. "Tell me how to help you!"

"Sev...rus..." Dumbledore rasped in a painful whisper. "Get... Sev...rus."

Harry was off like a shot, flying down the stairs two and three at a time and leaping from the last few to land heavily on the office floor below. He almost fell but refused to allow his feet to stop. The fireplace seemed leagues away, but he finally reached it and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. Shouting for Lily's quarters, he jumped from the flames on the other side even before the spinning had completely stopped and fell heavily to the floor.

"Dad!" He screamed, scrambling to his feet and rushing toward the bedroom door. "Lily, Dad! _WAKE UP!"_

The door before him flew open. Snape and Lily were both wide-eyed and ruffled, as if they had been startled out of a sound sleep.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked softly.

"It's Dumbledore!" Harry said, out of breath and gasping with panic. "He's hurt! I…I think he's _dying_!"

Lily let out a startled cry as Snape's eyes widened before he took off toward the floo, calling to Harry over his shoulder. "Where?"

"His office!" Harry answered, keeping pace behind him as they hurried back to the large stone fireplace. "The staircase up to his quarters!"

Spinning on his heel to give him a hard look, his father fiercely commanded, "Harry, stay here with Jillian. _Do not_ leave these rooms or open the door to anyone until I come to fetch you, is that understood?" When Harry nodded, Snape turned to Lily and directed, "Come with me. I'm going to need you."

It was only when he reached for the pot of floo powder that Harry noticed the tremble in his father's fingers.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

 _"Dammit!"_ Snape ground out as his fumbling, swollen hands knocked the glittering green powder to the floor. "There's no _time_ –!"

Lily rushed forward, scooping up the powder from between the fibers of the thick carpet and tossing it into the grate. When the flames turned emerald Snape charged into them calling out, "Lily, follow me! _Severus Snape's office!"_

Tripping in his rush out of the floo, Snape hurried toward his private ingredient store. By the time Lily had stepped through, he had accidentally dropped two precious jars of rare ingredients onto the floor in his blundering haste.

"Severus," Lily said anxiously at his shoulder. "I'm here. Tell me what you need."

"A gold potion in a small bottle," he muttered desperately. Cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach, rattling his normally imperturbable demeanor and causing him to accidentally smash yet another jar of rare ingredients. Frantic now, he made a desperate attempt at wandless magic and cried out, " _Accio Aurea Salutem potion!"_ Amazingly, it worked. The potion slid out from behind a large jar on one of the back shelves, casting a gilded, shimmering light like liquid gold throughout the small storage room.

Lily didn't wait to be told. Snatching the small vial out of the air, her hair fanned out behind her as she spun on her heel and ran to the fireplace once again. Throwing down floo powder, she dove into the flames before Snape could reach her side.

He'd barely had time to unfold himself from the fire in Dumbledore's office before Lily stumbled backward into him with a terrified cry.

A thick, eerie fog filled the normally bright office, casting a muted light and long, low shadows as a fierce battle played out within the thick mist. Three figures fired spells and curses at one another with the speed and power of a muggle shotgun. On instinct Snape protectively shoved Lily behind him and shielded her with his body.

 _Where in the Hell is Dumbledore?!_

"Get down!" he cried, and as he spoke a fourth figure darted into the fray. Snape could tell it was a female – no more than a girl, really – petite, wide-eyed, and vulnerable. But it was as if the others didn't see her frantically trying to bring the fighting to an end. The battle raged on around her, the curses never ceasing as they whizzed dangerously past her head.

Suddenly a spell hit her squarely in the chest, and her frail body crumpled as if she were made of no more than paper.

"NOOOO!"

The blood-curdling scream startled Snape, but the gloom obscured the room enough to conceal where it came from. Above them the hazy, ghostly figures crowded around the ruined body of the girl, and one of them dropped to his knees with a choking sob. A chill ran down Snape's spine as the figures began to speak, and their ethereal voices echoed unnaturally around the large space.

"This is _your_ fault, Albus!" The ghostly boy on the ground yelled in that strange, unnatural echo. "You've killed her!"

"No, no – I didn't –I didn't mean–!"

"Don't deny it, Albus," said another of the ghostly boys in a thick German accent. "They were nothing but a hindrance. You _wanted_ this to happen."

 _Grindelwald…?_ Snape thought in dawning horror.

"Of course I wanted it," said the third ghostly figure in that strange faraway echo. "I was born to do great things. How could I possibly accomplish anything when I was being weighed down by _them?"_

"NO! That's not true!" Someone cried out within the mist. But the words sounded helpless. Despairing. "Please… No…" They whimpered, "Take me instead."

"Admit it. You wanted them to die." Grindelwald crooned. And it was only in that moment that Snape noticed there was an otherworldly gleam in the eyes of the ghostly visions. A _red_ gleam.

 _Voldemort._

The unearthly mist swirled around the office, clearing away near the headmaster's desk, and Snape was finally able to catch sight of a very real, very weak Dumbledore. The Sword of Gryffindor was hanging limply in left hand, the point resting against the floor. _Pathetic,_ something dark whispered in a corner of his mind.

"I didn't – I can't – I'm so sorry!" Dumbledore sobbed, and his entire frame shook with emotion as he swayed on the spot.

"Not yet, Dumbledore," Grindelwald purred with a wicked smile slowly spreading across his lips. "But you will be. Soon you will be very, _very_ sorry."

And suddenly the young German boy's features began to hideously morph and change until it was no longer Grindelwald staring down at the frail headmaster, but the Dark Lord. "You make yourself out to be the savior of the wizarding world," the ghostly, snake-like vision hissed. "You're nothing but a butcher of innocents."

And then the other figures began to change beside him. The boy crying over the young girl stayed the same, but the lifeless, battered body transformed into that of Harry.

A cry of denial was torn from Snape's very soul at the terrible image. As he scrambled to his feet, his gaze was focused only on his son's lifeless eyes as his heart clenched and twisted painfully within his chest, his lungs refusing to draw breath.

"No – Severus, _don't!"_ Lily desperately grasped at the folds of his cloak as she tried to keep him down, but he didn't even feel her frantic tugs.

And then he was no longer looking at a young teenage wizard crying over the body of his son… but _himself_.

"No! Please God, _not my son!"_ The ghostly vision wept in despair. Snape watched in horror, mesmerizingly entranced by the disturbing vision of his own features twisting in absolute agony.Tears shone thickly on the ghostly features, and the vision's hair was wild and disheveled as its hands clenched the strands near the skull and screamed accusingly, "You _killed_ him! You – you promised me you'd keep him safe! _HE'S DEAD AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"_

The wretched words echoed nightmarishly around the walls. In that agonizing moment, the vision and Snape were one and the same. In a sinister daze, all he knew was that his son was dead – _murdered by Dumbledore's own hand_ – and he wanted nothing more than to kill the weak, pathetic old wizard that had his back turned before him, sobbing in wretched grief. His feet began closing the distance before he'd even told them to start walking. A cold, high-pitched laugh sounded unnaturally around the room, but Snape didn't – _couldn't_ – hear.

"Severus!" Lily screamed wildly, but her scream did nothing to halt his deadly progress.

Yet somehow her frantic voice seemed to penetrate Dumbledore's anguish. He turned slowly, the sword point dragging on the floor as he met Snape's hellish, possessed gaze. He didn't even try to stop the younger wizard from advancing.

In a hoarse voice Dumbledore muttered, "I'm so sorry, Severus… Forgive me. Please, forgive me for what I have to do, my son." And with a cry born of desperate strength, he turned and swung the sword over his head, smashing it mightily down upon the table.

A spine-chilling scream rent the air as what looked like blood gushed menacingly from a deep wound on the tabletop. A sudden bolt of lightning highlighted the faces of the eerie mist figures, which all seemed to be shrieking in pain. Their expressions were twisted into angry, ugly snarls, and as the crash of thunder rumbled around the room, they disappeared in a breath of ice cold air.

Whatever spell had taken hold of Snape was suddenly broken, and he blinked rapidly to clear his incoherent thoughts and fuzzy vision.

 _What the hell just–?_

But he was cut short as his clearing gaze landed upon a weakened, trembling headmaster. The normally piercing blue eyes were now a lifeless gray, and the old wizard's skin lacked all color as he stared weakly back at Snape.

"Severus…" The man murmured faintly, taking a single, unsteady step. And then he collapsed heavily to the floor.

" _Albus!"_ Snape cried, rushing to him and dropping to his knees by his side. Lily was beside him in a heartbeat, rolling the headmaster onto his back and falling quickly into a healer's levelheaded demeanor. Together they quickly searched his unconscious form for any indication of what was weakening him.

"Severus," Lily suddenly murmured, and there was a quaver to her normally calm voice. "His hand – look at his hand!"

The skin along the fingers and knuckles of Dumbledore's right hand was completely necrotic, as if it had been dead for many years. And it was continuing to move up, almost to his wrist.

"Oh my God," Snape whispered. "The Corporis Mortem curse…" His wide, horrified gaze collided with Lily's. "I don't know if the potion is going to be enough! We have to get it in him – _now!"_

Lily was moving before he'd even finished, sliding Dumbledore's head into her lap and tipping the small golden potion into his open mouth. Snape grasped his wand in his swollen fingers, not caring about the pain but still grateful that the wand only had to be held steady, aiming at the wound. " _Mortis naturam vincat non est corpus,"_ he muttered. Snape continued chanting incantations, and could feel the darkness radiating from inside the headmaster, fighting back against the potion and the powerful healing chants.

 _Let him die,_ that dark corner inside his mind began to whisper. _You made the Unbreakable Vow. And he is a threat to your son. You know he will sacrifice him for–_

"No!" Snape cried as he saw the dead, necrotic tissue begin to spread at a more rapid pace, past the headmaster's wrist. Lily's startled eyes shot up, but he refused to look at her as he snarled down at the darkness, "You cannot have him!" _Harry is lost without him. We are_ all _lost without him…_ And he continued to chant, louder, stronger – desperately fighting for the life of the only true father he had ever known.

Another bolt of lightning split the skies, but the thunder was further now, less ominous as the sound took much longer to roll across the craggy mountains and meet their ears. Suddenly a strong golden glow came from the tip of Snape's wand, and Snape could feel the darkness slithering and coiling away, subdued and beaten… _At least for now._

As the glow slowly lessened, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened.


	36. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

 ****AUTHOR'S NOTE: No excuse for how long it took to get this chapter up. But I still want to apologize. The hubby flies to Washington D.C. soon to see if they'll be able to save his leg, and with two small children AND a home business to run (websites, graphic design, & social media manager)… Life just got carried away from me for a while. I'm so sorry to all my lovely readers. **

**Also, fair warning: This chapter runs the** _ **gamut**_ **of sensation and passions – on both ends of the scale. And I mean that literally. As in, even** _ **I**_ **was not prepared for the spectrum of human emotion that the characters showed. I guess this story is rated "M" for a reason… I hope everyone enjoys!**

"Lily," The headmaster muttered weakly. His glazed, depleted eyes slid from Lily's face to land upon Snape. "Sevrus, my… my boy." A small, relieved laugh escaped Lily as she looked up at Snape, then gazed back down at Dumbledore and brushed the stray, sweaty hair from his eyes. Snape's shoulders slumped and he ran a swollen hand over his face as strong emotion suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Albus," he choked, still trembling as the relief flowed through his body. "Thank Merlin… You're – you're alive. _Thank God."_ But the short-lived relief was quickly replaced with self-righteous rage, and after a moment his dark eyes snapped back to the exhausted face that suddenly looked far older than he ever remembered seeing it. "What the bloody _fuck_ were you thinking, old man?!"

" _Severus!"_ Lily reprimanded quietly. "He's just been through a–"

"Don't," he admonished softly, gently cutting her off even though his eyes never left the headmaster's gaze. "That was dark magic we just experienced – _very_ dark magic." After a long moment he went on, "I could have seriously injured you, headmaster. Or worse. I _wanted_ to kill you. I would have, without even giving it a second thought." He let the words hang heavily in the air between them all. But to his credit, the older wizard never broke eye contact. "That spell… This curse…" Snape murmured quietly, motioning to the professor's rotting hand. "It has something to do with the Dark Lord."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I…" A single tear slid down the old man's face. "Severus, if only to protect you, you cannot know–" But his words were cut short as he grimaced in pain, moaning softly as his blackened hand gave an involuntary jerk.

Lily's eyes took on a protective glint as her gaze morphed from that of a concerned friend to that of a determined healer. "Whatever it is you need to say Severus, it can wait. He needs rest." And without another word, she conjured a stretcher and hovered the headmaster toward his private quarters.

 _She gets better by the day as I struggle to complete the simplest of spells,_ Snape thought almost bitterly as he struggled to get to his feet. But after a moment he shook his head to clear it of the sullen thoughts. He was happy for Lily, truly – she was loving, bright, and exceedingly talented. _And she deserves a man that can love and provide for her the way she deserves,_ an ugly corner of his mind sneered hatefully. _What she does not need is the pathetic excuse that I have suddenly become._

Snape was pulled from his dismal thoughts as he finally made it to the top of the stairs, which opened into the headmaster's large quarters. Lily had already tucked the man into the massive four-poster bed, and Snape's gaze lingered for a moment on the intricate carvings all along the white ash. The moonlight streaming through the large window made the wood glow like bleached bone, and Snape couldn't suppress the chill that ran down his spine.

After propping the headmaster up with pillows, Lily started a fire in the grate. Yet the fire did nothing to calm Snape's growing restlessness, and he couldn't help the anxiety and apprehension that kept trying to slither deep inside his bones.

Pulling him aside, Lily gazed worriedly up at him as she whispered, "I've learned a lot training in the hospital wing these past few weeks, but I… I've never dealt with such _dark_ magic. He's obviously in pain, Severus. I think we may have to wake Poppy–"

"Poppy isn't equipped to deal with this," Snape sighed in resignation, wishing yet again that he didn't have to reveal this ugly, repulsive part of himself to the woman he loved. Looking intensely down at her for long, drawn-out moments, he couldn't smother the nerves fluttering in his stomach as he explained, "I'm the only one at this school who has enough experience in the Dark Arts to properly treat him."

There was a long pause as Lily stared up at him with a bewildered expression. _"Experience?_ Sev, I know you have a history, but you can't possibly have experience with something like _this_ … That was… Severus that was pure _evil._ It almost made you _kill him_ –!"

"And what makes you think I haven't killed people before, Lily?" Snape growled low and menacingly as he glared down at her. "I was–" he paused, " _I am_ the Dark Lord's right hand man, his most trusted servant. How do you think I obtained that most ' _exalted'_ position?" He hissed, raging against a world that seemed so dead set against allowing him and his family to live in peace.

But she seemed to see past the protective barriers he was hurrying to erect in his vulnerable state. The way her eyes probed and penetrated his defenses only infuriated him further. She saw clearly what he worked so desperately to hide, and it made him feel raw and exposed. He couldn't handle those feelings right now, not after everything he'd just witnessed and almost been compelled to do.

"You are naïve, Lily," he spat. "Completely useless in this fight. I refuse to be responsible for your corruption. Just – just leave."

"Severus–" she murmured in a wounded tone, gazing at him as if he'd slapped her.

"I said _GO!"_ And for the first time ever, she seemed to shrink before him. Her eyes filled with moisture, but the tears didn't fall. With her full bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced indecisively over her shoulder at Dumbledore. But as her eyes flicked back up to him for a long moment, the hurt he saw in their depths almost made him apologize. Snape suddenly found himself torn between wanting to wound her further and wanting to kiss the sting away. But before he could make up his mind, Lily spun on her heel and hurried down the stairs to the office below. He ran to the head of the stairs but heard the floo roar to life a second later.

" _Dammit!"_ he growled, embracing the pain that flared within his hand as he turned his back on the stairs and speared his fingers through his hair.

"Severus," Dumbledore called weakly. "Do not push her away–"

As Snape whirled to face him he cried out, "What the hell else can I do, you foolish, stupid old man?! I _love_ her!"

"And she loves you, my boy. You take too much upon yourself. Allow her to help you–"

"Help me? _Help me?!"_ Snape snarled menacingly, stalking toward the prone headmaster and barely able to control the violence that threatened to spill out from his rage. But as he approached, the older wizard simply continued to look calmly up at him. He watched him patiently, as if they were only having a friendly chat over afternoon tea, even though Severus was wavering back and forth between slaying him right there in his bed. His chest heaved with loud, enraged breaths as he stood over the old man, glaring at him.

With a roar, Snape spun away and began to frantically pace the length of the room. "God damn you, Dumbledore!" he sneered as he passed the foot of the bed. "God _damn_ you! You meddling, manipulative– Do you not realize the _danger_ we're all in?! The enemies you have made throughout this God forsaken fight? Are you stupid enough to underestimate the lengths they will go to kill you?"

"I am aware," Dumbledore murmured quietly, his gaze never wavering.

Snape gave a derisive snort as he continued his frantic pacing. "And yet you continue to maneuver and manipulate people like pawns on a chessboard, like the Almighty Being who can do no wrong…" He suddenly spun to face the headmaster. "We _trust_ you, God dammit! And we need you! For Merlin's sa– You're our _leader!_ You can't just _forget_ that fact whenever it is convenient and allow yourself to be led astray like a lamb to slaughter!"

"You're right, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "And I will die for my mistakes."

Snape whirled to face his mentor. _"YES, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE YOU STUPID, GOD DAMNED FOOL!"_ The headmaster didn't even flinch, and Snape found himself charging toward him again, even though he'd told himself to stay away – far away – from the man. He wanted to hurt him, break him, smash his calm, detached features so that he would begin to understand the agonizing horror and raw anguish that Snape was experiencing.

With a deadly snarl, he was able to force himself to turn away – but only just – before he lashed out at the headmaster. Instead he directed his rage toward the lunascopes and other delicate instruments above the fireplace, and without a second thought swept his arm across the mantle to send the entire collection crashing to the floor. "You went up against the Dark Lord, and _YOU LOST!_ We've failed, it's over, don't you see that?! I'm not strong enough to beat this curse – I've only succeeded in slowing the inevitable. _I CAN'T SAVE YOU!"_

"There was nothing you could have done, son–"

"OF COURSE THERE WAS! But I couldn't protect them, I'm not strong enough! _IT'S MY FAULT!_ " Snape kicked a small table next to the armchair in front of the fire, smashing the spindly wood into pieces and sending the books that were stacked neatly atop it crashing against the wall next to the bed. "I had to make an _Unbreakable Vow,_ damn you! My family – Bellatrix and Narcissa, if I hadn't sworn to assist, they would have–"

"Severus, I know," Dumbledore interrupted calmly. "I _know_. Draco sent word to me the same night that Spinner's End caught fire."

Snape was brought up short, the shock of hearing the headmaster admit that he knew of the Dark Lord's most secret and protected plan jolting him from his rage. Stunned, dark eyes connected with exhausted, sorrowful blue.

"You – you _know?"_

And for the first time since the entire sickening conversation began, Snape detected something other than calm acceptance in Dumbledore's gaze. _Apprehension…?_ "The boy has been initiated as a Death Eater to punish his father's failures, and his mother is being kept as Voldemort's concubine." Snape was already aware of these facts, but still couldn't help himself from wincing at the Malfoy family's current plight. But Dumbledore continued, "That night an unknown patronus came bounding into my office telling me of your injuries, and that I was desperately needed at Spinner's End. Hours later, after you and your family had been transferred to St. Mungo's, I received an owl. It was a missive from Draco Malfoy, admitting everything and begging for my help to aid his parents. Although his mother is being kept close by Voldemort's side, she was somehow able to send word to Draco that you had made an Unbreakable Vow to assist him in his mission.

"It was then that I came to believe that it had been Narcissa Malfoy that sent the patronus. I cannot presume to know if she still supports Voldemort in his quest for domination over our world. However, I _do_ know that Draco has seen exactly the kind of world that Voldemort wishes to bring to pass, and no longer wants any part of it."

"So… what are you saying?"

There was something in Dumbledore's gaze that Snape couldn't quite identify. "I think you know what I'm saying, Severus," he murmured.

They gazed at one another for a long, silent moment before the headmaster's meaning hit Snape with enough force to knock him back a few paces.

" _No_." The word was automatic, harshly forceful in its finality.

"You must. The Vow has been made, the curse set in motion. There is nothing more to be done other than make my death _mean_ something. Use it to our advantage for the greater g–"

"You – you can't be serious?!" Snape cut through, aghast at what the man was asking him to do. Even after all he'd seen and done in his life, the thought was revolting. "Do you _hear_ yourself? Do you even understand what you're asking me to _do_?!"

"I'm asking you to save the Malfoy boy's life. Possibly even his soul."

"What about _my_ life?! _My_ soul?!With all that goes through that brilliant mind of yours, you had to of realized that you are the only father I've ever truly known!" At these words a single tear leaked from the corner of Dumbledore's eye, trickling over the wrinkled face to drip onto the plush down comforter. The sight did nothing but caused Snape's to be even more severe as he hissed, "I cannot kill you! _I won't!_ You'rethe only one strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord! If we don't have you with us – If Harry doesn't – I can't–"

Snape's chest heaved as the ice cold truth sliced through his blistering rage. The unbidden tears that sprang to his eyes threatened to choke him. As his face fell into his gnarled hands, he finally broke. "I cannot kill my own father, Albus. And I can't save Harry without you…" Tears racked his frame. Snape no longer had the strength to stand, and he sank to his knees beside the bed.

Long moments that felt like hours passed, with his soft weeping and the crackling of the fire the only sounds to fill the large room. Snape felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs and he could no longer draw breath. _It is not Albus who is cursed… It's me, and all who I hold dear._

Suddenly there was the feeling of a soft touch on the crown of his head. He felt the weight of Dumbledore's uninjured hand stroking him, unsure and hesitant, as if doubtful that Snape would accept him in his most vulnerable moment.

Without realizing what we was doing, Snape rose to the bed as the older wizard opened his arms. He wrapped Snape in a tight embrace, rocking gently, and Snape could feel the headmaster's tears fall upon his own skin. "Oh, my boy… My dear boy. _My son_ …"

They sat in silence for a long while, each taking comfort in the other's presence and embrace. Eventually the tears slowed, and even amidst the embarrassment that was attempting to creep into his brain, for this small moment in time… Snape was at peace.

But he broke slowly away as the headmaster began to chuckle, gazing at the older wizard and wondering if he'd finally lost his mind. However, the twinkle was back in Dumbledore's clear blue eyes as he returned Snape's gaze and murmured, "I can't help but see certain… _similarities_ between you and your son." He laughed outright as Snape looked around the room at the destruction he had wrought, and realized the man was referring to the day that all of this had started – that evening in the office below, when Harry had done much the same thing as Snape, wreaking havoc all over his office.

Snape looked at the older wizard out of the corner of his eye, a rueful half-smile playing against his lips. "Humph," was all he decided to say.

. . . . .

The first thing that Snape's gaze fell upon when he rose from the floo in Lily's tower was Harry. The boy was sitting on the couch with his knees drawn up under his chin, biting his lip and staring nervously out into space. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard the roar of the flames only a few feet away.

"Harry?" His son visibly flinched, but jumped to his feet a moment later as his mind registered his father's presence.

"Dad! What happened? How's Dumbledore? Were you able to heal him? Is he going to be alright?" The boy didn't even take a breath during the rapid fire questions.

"He's going to be fine, Harry." _For now._ "Did Lily not explain?"

"Well, she said something about… about dark magic," he muttered. "She mentioned a curse before she left, but she seemed kind of–"

" _Left?_ " Snape interrupted. "Where did she go?"

"She… um… said she was going to her office to work," Harry answered, suddenly not meeting his eyes. Snape gazed down at his son; the boy's discomfort could not be more obvious.

"Harry," he said softly. "What?"

Harry looked up at him from beneath his fringe. Was that _accusation_ he saw reflected in his eyes? "It looked like she'd been crying."

The implication was obvious. Snape almost smiled at his son's indignant, protective tone and what it suggested. _The boy sees her as a mother…_

Harry was still frowning at him and expected an answer, he realized. Although Snape knew he had been unduly harsh to Lily and had all intentions of making it up to her, he suddenly realized that the hot, prickly sensation he was feeling under Harry's intent gaze was shame at how he'd treated her.

"I…" Snape cleared his throat as he tried again. "Well, I was…" He trailed off.

"A git?" Harry provided bluntly as he raised a brow, and Snape could almost see himself in the expression.

"Yes," he sighed in resignation, still looking down at the perceptive boy. "I was most definitely agit."

The two continued to gaze at each other. Snape, for once in his life, was at a complete loss for what to say.

"Well?" Harry finally asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to apologize and bring her home?"

Harry gave a small yelp as Snape reached out and snatched his son to his chest, hugging him fiercely. After a moment, the boy's arms wrapped firmly around his middle as he settled into the embrace. Gently cupping the back of his head, Snape rested his cheek against the top of Harry's dark mop of hair.

"I love you, son," he murmured. His voice tightened dangerously over a lump in his throat as he considered the perilous path that Harry would be forced to walk very soon.

"I love you too, Dad," Harry's muffled voice near his shoulder responded.

"I promise I will explain more about what happened tonight. But for now, just know that Dumbledore is alright, and is resting." He gently extricated himself and held Harry at arm's length, "As you should be. It's very late. Go to bed. I'm going to get your mother and beg her forgiveness for being a _git_."

Harry's eyes shone with pleasure at his words. Snape smiled down at him, running his swollen fingers through the boy's hair before he sent him to his room.

"Night, Dad." Harry called softly from his doorway.

"Good night, son," Snape called back, hearing the quiet _snick_ of the latch settling into place.

Lost in thought, he turned and made his way through the tower door, down the spinning spiraling stair case, and past the massive suit of armor seated on the equally massive armor of his war horse, which together guarded the bottom entrance to the tower.

As Snape made his way to the small office just down the hall from the hospital wing entrance, he suddenly realized that the peace and stillness he'd felt in the headmaster's quarters had lingered. Although he knew that the start of the biggest challenge of their lives lay only a few weeks ahead, somehow a warm awareness had settled in the pit of his stomach and without his notice, gently flooded every cell of his being. He understood in that moment exactly what, " _The power the Dark Lord knows not_ ," referred to, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it did indeed give them unimaginable power over the darkness they were about to face.

 _Whatever the Dark Lord throws at us, we will get through it together…_

He looked up, surprised to be face-to-face with the hand carved wood of Lily's office door.

Feeling calm and sure in his love for the woman on the other side, he pushed it open and quietly slipped inside.

Lily stood before a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle in her hand and random ingredients littered across her workstation. Her movements were jerky and frantic, and many of the jars were on their side spilling their contents across the table. It was only as he saw her shoulders shake, as if she were crying, that he finally spoke.

"Lily…"

Her movements stilled, but she didn't raise her head, nor did she turn to face him. Instead she continued grinding the ingredients in the bowl before her. "Severus. I… I'm working. I'll come back when I'm done."

Even from the doorway Snape could feel the tension radiating off her body, quivering nervously and reminding him of a small animal surrounded by a pack of hungry lions. Not wishing to cause her any further anxiety, he slowly moved to stand behind her and softly placed his hands on her arms to still the agitated movements of her mixing and grinding. Snape felt goosebumps form along her skin as he ran his ruined hands slowly down to cup her elbows, then continue to her wrists. No words passed between them, but some of the tension drained from her body as Lily allowed herself to slightly relax into his embrace.

"Lily," he whispered at her temple, and he felt her shudder. "I'm sor–"

"I – I've been working on something for your hands," she hurried to override him, suddenly shaking him off. "It was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes that gave me the idea. I've been considering it for a while now, and I think it might really help. I made a cream, but it could work even better as a potion–"

"Lily–"

"It's the _properties_ of the phoenix itself that really got me interested. Their tears have healing powers, don't they? And there must be restorative components throughout their bodies because they die and are reborn through the ashes. There's got to be _something_ there that can h-help your hands," she rambled. "I'm sure I could – All I have to do is work _harder,_ figure it out, I knowI can do it, I _know_ I can–"

"Lily, _stop."_ The words were spoken softly, but she flinched and stiffened within his arms as if he'd screamed them at her. Her loose hair covered her features as she bowed her head before her.

Snape couldn't stand to see her like this. Spinning her around, he couldn't think of the right words to say when still she refused to raise her head and look at him. "I'm sor–" he began again, but once more she cut him off.

"Can – can I show you? Please…?"

With a resigned sigh he muttered, "Of course." _Is the woman deliberately refusing to hear my apology?_

Reaching for a small jar of cream the color of orange poppies, she unscrewed the lid and Snape was suddenly hit with the spicy smell of sandalwood and the woodsy aroma of frankincense. It was rather rich and pleasant.

The cream itself had a silky heat to it, and after all of the extra abuse that his hands had suffered that night, it felt wonderful. A small sound of pleasure was torn from him as Lily's fingers massaged the cream masterfully into his skin, bending each hand up at the wrist and working it into the palm of his hands. There was something sensual in her touch, and although she still refused to meet his gaze, he stared hotly down at her.

When she pinched his index finger at the base of his knuckle and slid her fingers firmly down along the entire appendage, he was unable to suppress a deep, guttural moan. At the sound her gaze finally met his own and held, as she repeated the motion on his other fingers. A deep moan was torn from him with each firm, suggestive touch. Her lips parted and her cheeks took on a rosy flush as she continued to stare up at him.

"Oh God Lily," he panted. "That feels so good. The pain…" His murmured words fell away and his gaze darkened upon her own as she continued to massage his hand with seductive motions. His other hand found its way up to cup her cheek against his palm. Bending his head, he could feel her warm breath fan across his face as he whispered, "The pain is gone."

Meeting her lips with his own, he gave a satisfied groan when Lily immediately melded her soft curves against his front, winding her arms around his neck to hold his body firmly against her. Using his now pain-free hands he lifted her small frame easily, and she wrapped her long legs frantically around his waist as he pushed her roughly against the wall.

He kissed her fiercely, desperately trying to tell her without words just how much he loved her – _needed_ her – in order to survive the coming war. He used his hands to lavish her with the kind of attention her luscious body deserved, bringing her to the brink only to hear her beg for what he'd been unable to give her since his sustaining his injuries.

Her soft mewls of pleasure was more than he could handle. For the second time that night he swept the table free of everything and sent it smashing to the floor. Lily clambered to sit on the table's surface, and both of them eagerly pulled at the other's waistbands. Their need was too great to do more than push their clothes aside, and within moments they were crying out in ecstasy together.

When it was over, Snape ran his fingers through the hair at her temples, resting his damp forehead against her own. Their panting was loud and raspy in the sudden silence as they tried to catch their breaths. Lily suddenly clenched her hands in the fabric of his robes.

"I didn't want to be useless," she whispered quietly against him, "And hearing you apologize… I just… I want to be strong for you." Snape's heart lurched.

He leaned down and kissed her softly. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered, cupping her cheek and kissing her again. "And I'm sorry for what I said."

She smiled shyly up at him through her lashes. "Don't be," she murmured, glancing down at where the two of them were still joined. He couldn't help but chuckle at her brazenness.

But later, after the mess was put back to rights and they were turning off the lamps to leave for the night, Snape couldn't help but look back over his shoulder as the tiny flicker of an idea began prickling at the back of his mind.

 _Phoenix properties…_


	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36 – EPILOGUE**

Unfortunately the pain cream did not work for longer than a few hours, and in fact became less and less effective if used more than a few times a day. However Snape was making good use of the small window of pain-free time it did provide him; it became a personal priority to help accelerate Lily's education about spells and potions that could help her in the hospital wing. Snape also began the meticulously complicated brewing process for the powerful golden elixir, something which he knew Dumbledore would need continuously in order to help contain the curse in his hand throughout the time he had left.

There was also the theory regarding powerful phoenix properties that Snape had been contemplating but had yet to test…

Although he was still easily weakened, the headmaster was getting stronger by the day. In the hopes of keeping knowledge of the curse from reaching the Dark Lord's ears, it had been put to the remaining staff in the castle that the headmaster was traveling. This not only kept him out of sight while he recovered, but was also a very believable scenario since the man had been traveling often throughout the past few school years.

The only ones who knew the truth about his condition were Harry, Lily, and Snape.

After a long conversation that fateful night which had lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, Snape and Lily had decided to keep Harry away from the headmaster the first few days in order to prevent the boy from seeing the powerful wizard at his weakest point. Although Harry was well aware that some dark magic had affected Dumbledore, they did not want him agonizing about the man's impending death – not with the literal weight of the wizarding world already on the boy's shoulders.

The thought of Albus Dumbledore's death was something that Snape constantly obsessed over. Even with the curse and the Unbreakable Vow ominously hovering in the back of his mind, he refused to believe that there was nothing left to be done, and threw his analytical and logical mind into overdrive for hours on end in a desperate attempt to think of a solution.

But the days seemed to get shorter as additional chores and preparations needed to be completed for the approaching school year, and he found that there was less and less time to dwell on the dire situation.

With Snape's expert guidance, Lily prepared large batches of health restorative potions, which were then bottled into small vials which Snape or Lily brought to the headmaster twice a day. Lily often stayed to have long philosophical discussions with Dumbledore, or to read to the man to keep him company. Snape preferred to settle in for a game of Wizard's Chess, which didn't require him to move his hands and made him feel like he could still be of some use. He won just as many games as he lost against the old man, but had to admit he was proud to see that the two of them were equally matched.

It was on one such occasion, as the two wizards sat quietly analyzing the chessboard before them, that Dumbledore questioned Snape about his hands.

"Rook to A6," the headmaster directed quietly, and the small turreted tower slid across the board to rest dangerously close to one of Snape's bishops. "How are you getting on with your therapy, Severus?" he asked suddenly.

"Fine. Bishop to D4," Snape retorted gruffly. He hated any mention of his hands – it served to remind him of all he still couldn't do, which just made him feel incompetent and like less of a wizard. "Why do you ask?"

"Your joints are getting better? You are now able to hold a wand?"

"You've seen me do so on multiple occasions," Snape growled.

"Indeed," the headmaster answered warmly. "And I know that you have surpassed what Dr. Gunderson and Poppy expected from you, even with therapy. You seem to be recovering faster than anticipated, no doubt thanks to that wonderful cream of Lily's." His eyes fairly sparkled as he gazed warmly at the man across from him.

Snape only grunted, but secretly he agreed with Dumbledore. Lily's cream not only helped him deal with the pain, but also maintained his dignity as both a man and a wizard. "What exactly is this about?" he asked the headmaster suspiciously.

"Well, I've been thinking–"

"Merlin help us," Snape sighed, awkwardly pinching the bridge of his nose with his swollen fingers.

Studying the chess pieces laid out on the board before him, Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Although I'm ecstatic to see that you are on the mend, I don't believe you will be able to continue teaching Potions – not with all the delicate work that preparing, brewing, and eight hours of daily teaching requires."

"I'm fully aware of my current _inability_ where potions are concerned," Snape murmured darkly.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered apologetically. But then he continued, "Even so, your worth still needs to be uniquely unmatched in Voldemort's mind. There is safety in that. So it occurred to me that perhaps you should accept the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Snape was quiet for long moments, studying the headmaster as he attempted to control his breathing and sudden racing pulse. Yes _,_ he had considered the possibility of becoming the new DADA professor – in all honesty it looked to be the only plausible option. But even so, the thought of attracting even more of the Dark Lord's deadly attention – as this new position was sure to do – made Snape's iron-like composure seem to crumble like sand against the pounding surf.

 _I will be even closer to the Dark Lord than I am already. And for once in my life, that thought is agonizing._ His stomach lurched so violently that he feared he would be sick right there in Dumbledore's office. _My family… What horrific tortures will the Dark Lord inflict upon them if he discovers the truth?_

"Severus?" Dumbledore intoned softly, and Snape's gaze snapped up to collide with a piercing blue look that was tinged with concern.

His dark eyes narrowed as he attempted to place his terror behind his shields. But no matter what he did, Snape could no longer escape the feeling that the walls were closing in around him and leaving him nowhere left to run.

"You do realize that the position is _cursed_?" he sneered, leaning forward to pluck a black knight off the chessboard. Watching the edges of the obsidian piece reflect the light as he examined the carved stone, Snape murmured, "Making me DADA professor means that my tenure here at Hogwarts will come to an end within the next year."

There was a note of sad acquiescence in the headmaster's voice when he quietly responded, "In a year's time, I don't believe it will matter."

. . . . .

Snape stood on the edge of the Quidditch pitch, arms crossed tightly against his chest as he squinted against the bright afternoon sun. The pitch was still and quiet, and Harry's voice carried clear across the lush grass to where he stood.

"Put your hand there – a little higher… Yeah, right there. Now hold on tight, because you're going to kick off hard from the ground and go up, ok?"

After Snape's conversation with Dumbledore, he obviously hadn't been thinking clearly. Somehow the two of them had convinced him to allow Harry to give Jilly her first flying lesson. Snape must have been more distracted than he realized, because for some reason he couldn't explain, he'd said yes.

After much whining, begging, and pleading from them both, he had absolutely forbade Jilly from riding the Firebolt until she was at least ten-years-old and could prove to Snape that she could handle the 150+ MPH speeds. He wasn't _that_ far gone, after all. So Harry had been forced to borrow one of the school's old Shooting Stars, and in fact admitted to Jilly that this was the same broom he had ridden after his Nimbus 2000 had been destroyed by the whomping willow.

Hovering above Jilly about ten feet off the ground, Harry called down, "Ok Jillian, kick off _hard!_ I'm right here, I won't let anything happen to you!"

Snape couldn't help the small half-smile that crossed his lips as the girl successfully kicked off for the first time, and she and Harry whooped and cheered.

"Look, Harry! I'm flying! I'm actually _flying!"_

"Way to go, Jilly! You want to make a couple laps around the pitch?"

"Not too high, Harry!" Snape yelled. "And not too fast! She's still learning!"

"Don't worry, Dad. I've got her!"

"Yes, that's what worries me," Snape grumbled to himself.

"I heard that!" Harry called as they flew past directly above him.

As the lesson continued and Snape began to relax, he started mumbling to himself like he always did when he was alone and concentrating. "Watch it, Harry – that might be a tight turn. Even out a little, Jilly… There you go. Good job, kid. You know, the boy isn't half bad at teaching–"

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Lily couldn't stop herself from laughing.

" _Woman_ …" he growled, scrubbing his face with his hand to cover his surprise, but still tucking her firmly underneath his arm against his side. "I thought you were working with Pomfrey in the hospital wing."

"Minerva came by and told us what was happening. Poppy shoo'd me away after that so I could come watch. You're right though – Harry is a remarkably good teacher," she announced in a cheeky tone, as if his mumbling had been meant for her. But her eyes glowed lovingly as she glanced up at him and murmured, "I bet he gets it from you."

"Humph," Snape mumbled, but secretly he was pleased by her words. "Well Jillian is not the typical little dunderhead that normally graces these halls. I'm sure that is a big factor, as well." Lily chuckled, but her arms tightened ever so slightly around his waist.

Together they quietly stood watching their children, and Snape tried to memorize everything about this moment: the sound of Harry and Jillian's laughs echoing on the breeze; the feel of the woman in his arms pressed tenderly against him; and the pure, undeniable love he felt for all of them. With the Dark Lord determined to wage war on the wizarding world – and more importantly on _his son,_ and by default, his entire family _–_ Severus knew that moments like these would grow fewer and farther between. But he vowed to himself that no matter what happened in the future, he would do everything in his power to remind them all that this was what life was truly about. He especially wanted to give Harry many more memories like these, so that the boy would never feel alone again.

Or maybe it was Snape himself that never again wanted to feel that way…

"Harry understands what he's fighting for," Lily murmured, her green eyes reflecting the golden light of the setting sun, and once again Snape wondered at her uncanny ability to just _know._ "I'm scared for him too, Severus. Being here in this place, especially talking with Albus over the last week… I can't help but hear things about Voldemort. About the prophecy and what Harry must do…" Their eyes met and held as they gazed at one another – dark and light, fear and hope mingling in the glow of the setting sun. "All we can do is love him, Sev. _That_ is the magic that will help him defeat Voldemort."

"Mum!" They suddenly heard Jilly call, and they both turned to look at her. The girl had been so busy taking direction from Harry that she had only just noticed her mother's presence. "Look, Mum! I'm really flying!" she cried excitedly as she and Harry flew gently toward them.

"She's a natural," Harry called, coming to a stop just outside of arm's reach of the adults. He hovered lazily in the air with a large grin plastered across his face, his hair windswept and even messier than normal. "She'll be on this Firebolt by Christmas," he said, reaching out and ruffling Jilly's red hair.

"Hmmm, I don't know," Lily announced, taking on an official air but with a glint of playfulness in her eyes. "Why don't you show me what you've learned, young lady?"

"Harry just taught me the Woo-long-gong Shimmy," she called down, carefully sounding out the difficult word as she looped slowly above their heads.

"That sounds like a mouthful," Lily laughed up at her.

"Yeah, but it's fun! Watch!" And the girl proceeded to slowly zigzag a foot or two to either side for roughly a few dozen meters. Harry whooped as she turned back, and both Snape and Lily loudly clapped.

"Did you see me, Severus?" Jilly squealed excitedly.

"Indeed," he answered with a smile. "You are a quick learner. We'll make a Chaser out of you yet."

"Hey, what's wrong with Seeker?" Harry asked in a playfully affronted tone.

"You haven't seen her throwing ability."

"Oh yeah?" The boy asked, genuinely interested.

Snape chuckled as he remembered their picnic and the rocks she had easily been able to toss across the wide river. "Just you wait. Trust me – she'll make an exceptional Chaser." He couldn't help but notice the proud, excited look that passed between Harry and Jilly. _Two Quidditch players in the family,_ he thought, shaking his head. _Merlin..._

"Jilly, come down for a minute won't you?" Harry asked suddenly as he lowered himself gently to the ground. Jilly was not far behind, and looked questioningly up at him as he helped her off the broomstick. There was a mischievous look to the boy's features as he glanced at Snape, then looked pointedly at Lily. "Would you like to try? You and Dad can take the Firebolt, if you'd like. I'll stay with Jilly on the Shooting Star."

"Harry _…_ " Snape glared at him with a warning note in his voice.

" _What?_ " his son asked innocently when Snape scowled at him darkly. "You refereed that match during my first year – you're _great_ on a broom!" He snorted in amusement, but looked away to compose himself.

"Really?" Lily asked eagerly, looking excitedly back and forth between Harry and Snape. "Can we, Sev? I've always wondered what it would be like to fly!" Harry's eyes were watering in his attempt to hold back his laughter. The boy was perfectly aware how much Snape loathed flying by broomstick – which was why he'd only done it the once during the entire time Harry had known him. And that was only to protect the little urchin after Quirrell had attempted to kill him.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

" _Please,_ Sev?" Lily asked. "I mean, unless your hands are hurting too much–"

"My hands are fine," he growled. Stomping over to his son, he snatched the broom out of the boy's hands and murmured, " _Brat._ " Harry really _did_ laugh then. Lily squealed and clapped in enthusiasm. "Don't _you_ start," he snapped as he mounted the broomstick. "Well, come on then!"

"Thank you, Harry!" Lily said as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Snape watched the woman suspiciously, as he thought he saw her wink at the boy. However he couldn't be sure, because at that moment she hopped on the broom behind him, and he had to admit that the feeling of her soft curves pressed firmly against him as she tightly held on made it all somewhat easier to accept.

Jillian got onto the Shooting Star behind Harry, and the entire family looked expectantly around at one another.

"Ready?" Snape called.

"Yeah!" Harry and Jilly cried together.

"Let's go," Lily said breathlessly. And together the family rose into the sky. As they soared through the pinkish clouds of the setting sun, even Snape found himself laughing in joy.

 _ ****11/21/2016 AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter 1 of the following story, entitled "Right Beside Me", is now up!**_ __ __ _ **Voldemort is gaining power & Harry is sure that Draco is not to be trusted. Can Snape protect the dark haired boy he's come to love as a son, while shielding his precious family from the evils closing in on them? **__**GIANT HAGRID HUGS AND BUTTERBEERS FOR YOU ALL!**_ __ __ __ __ __ __


End file.
